A couple of weeks ago, Husband and I got in a hypothetical discussion – the very worst kind.
You see we’re, once again, discussing the possibilities for our family next year. And one of those hypothetical possibilities involves a teeny tiny 3000 mile road trip. Which should be a piece of cake because, after all, we’ve already done a 2,900 mile move before. With a 1 year old. While I was pregnant. In August. With no air-conditioner. So this hypothetical go-round should seriously be a cake-walk. Right?
Until we start to discuss logistics. Husband and I don’t always agree on the logistics. Of anything. Ever.
Which brings us to the couch. You know, that couch I hate. That couch that husband (bless him) picked out without me 10 years ago. That couch that has been used and abused by four Wild Things. That couch that I have to MAGIC ERASER.
Yeah, that one.
Me, in all of my slightly-selfish-logistical-genius, said that we should definitely throw it in a dumpster before/if we move. I mean, I don’t want to stuff that thing in a U-haul, y’all. It’s not worth the gas money to transport that far. It would be easier to just replace it on the other end. Oh yeah, and I hate it; There’s that.
Husband, in all of his nazi-frugal-zeal declared that we will never get rid of it, ever. Unless a baby alien comes bursting from its loins like a scary movie, we’re keeping that thing till the end of time. Because we already own it. “The only way we’re taking a different couch to *mystery-place*, is if one falls from the sky”, he boldly declared.
At which point I decided to be proactive and sincerely ask
The very next Saturday morning, while we’re cleaning up our homemade pancake breakfast, with our perfectly pleated casuals on, and our hair pinned just-so to compliment our thankful smiles, I get a call. From George.
“Weren’t you the one that wanted a couch? Some old guy just came up to the shelter and asked if anybody needed a couch.”
*(I’ve never clarified this point on here, but our church runs a small mens homeless shelter that that logistically-minded, Jesus-loving Husband of mine started a couple of years ago.)
“Um, chyeah!”, I said, classily. And then grabbed my keys and my dad so that we could race to take a look at it before anybody else got their hands on it.
Just before I arrive at my destination I get another call from George.
“I took a look at it”, he says. “It’s pretty old school. It’s covered in like flowers.”
At this point, I’m imagining the worst.
So imagine my immense surprise when dad and I strolled up to see the most beautiful couch in the whole world. No really, absolutely gorgeous. And vintage. And my favorite colors. That would match the mismatched, rag-tag furniture that we already owned. Yeah.
And after Husband once again figured out a little logistics…
We welcomed a beautiful new member into our living room family.
And I gave the Wild Boys the old one to use as a trampoline or what-have-you.
Once again, God reminded me that he already knows what I need. And even what I want. Just like when he gave me new pots. Just like when he gives the Wild Things new clothes. Just like when he provides Husband with the means to support our family again and again.
I’m praying that my faith, and his blessings, continue to grow as I learn to let go and trust Him.
Has God given you anything lately?