Yesterday morning, Nate and I hopped in Thomas for a quick drive to Camden: Jan and Bob Blick were giving us their old couch and loveseat. Let me be clear, I don't actually know how old they are, and regardless of their age, they are a far sight better than any of the furniture we have been using - all of which is totally functional, just old, fraying, sometimes smelly....the usual, in my mind.
So, we drove down to their home. The closer we got, the wider our eyes grew: the houses were enormous. The lots were sizable. The landscaping was gorgeous. Their home was no exception. I had made the batter for an applesauce cake, and then used it to make muffin-ish things, which I had then piled onto a paper plate to take to them - part of the 'thank you' for giving us their old furniture. Actually, the muffins were on a couple of paper plates, as the plates were the kind that buckle under the weight of an intense gaze. At some point, someone I knew was going to throw them away, and while they clearly weren't for holding, say, baked beans, I just couldn't bear their not getting used at all... so, I offered to adopt them. Anyway. We walked into this large, lovely, spotless home and I was struck, "They don't need our muffins." Not that anyone does, I suppose, but the contrast was really quite stark. I mean, they were getting rid of furniture because it was faded; it's not even particularly worn.
As we sat and visited, Jan remembered that she had gotten 'a little something' for Avaline, 'because sometimes it's hard to be the big sister when the next little one is born.' Yes. Now, keep in mind that this woman has never actually met Avaline. In fact, the first time she spoke to me was last Sunday at church when she stopped me to ask if we might like their old furniture. She asked because she had heard we'd just moved, and well, 'it's just the right type of furniture for a family starting out.' (ie, functional and free). Then, apparently, she had heard we had an older child. I don't know who her informant is, but they are in the know. So, she was 'out in town anyway' and 'thought of how hard it can be for the older child' and stopped in at the children's store to see what may be appropriate. A stuffed bunny. A large bunny, to go with the older child; 'that way it won't look like something for the baby.'
I'm sitting on their new couch in their living room which has windows on three sides and sky lights, looking out to their perfectly landscaped and manicured lawn, holding muffins on flimsy paper plates, and feeling completely overwhelmed. There was nothing to do, really, but just say thank you. Look sincere (since I was), try not to cry (which is often my default to strong emotions), and file the memory away in the 'Wow, God is good' file.
That's not all, though. Oh, no. When Jan called to say that their new furniture had arrived, she asked if we had yet been able to figure out a Plan B for how to transport the old furniture to our home. I said no, as neither Thomas nor Marguerite are large enough for couches, and we hadn't yet tried to track down someone with a truck. 'Would you mind,' she asked, 'if I tried a couple of options I have in mind and get back to you?' I said no. I mean, really, who would mind someone else making phone calls? So, ultimately Tim Payson met us at the Blicks' yesterday - with this flatbed trailer. He loaded that sofa and loveseat right on, covered them with moving blankets (which, of course, he just happened to have), tied them down, took them to our home (which is in the opposite direction of his), and helped Nate carry them in. Jan had arranged all of this.
As I watched Tim cover and tie down the furniture, I was overwhelmed with the realization that I didn't do anything. Nothing. Really nothing. I mean, I responded with 'yes' when asked questions. I answered the telephone when it rang.... but otherwise, nothing. I did nothing, yet there I was, watching our new furniture come into the house. Someone else had done the communicating of our situation. The providing of the furniture. The thoughtful gifting to our daughter. The arranging of transportation. I even have a sneaking suspicion that the Blicks paid Tim. And, what did I have to offer? Muffins on paper plates. Words of gratitude. That was it.
Unsurprisingly, it reminded me of God. How I really can't to anything on my own, and the things I offer God are like taking the Blicks some muffins. God doesn't need my muffins. He doesn't provide, protect, and love for the muffins. He does it because He is God. Because he likes being Himself, and as Himself is inherently the Provider, Protector, and Lover. So, as Nate and I face choices now and in the future that seem to have no easy resolution, I am reminded by occurrences like this that God will handle it. That I can trust Him to provide, even when I simply cannot see a way for it to work out. Undoubtedly that's because all I have to offer in these situations is some second-hand paper plates and muffins; thankfully His resources are infinitely more vast.
beautiful thoughts.
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