She arrived for her two-night stay with a
heavy suitcase, a “Julie” doll (that’s some kind of special thing. American Girl doll sound familiar?), a
stuffed cow named Moo-Moo, a plastic horse almost as tall as she is (I still
haven’t figured out that one’s name. I’m
pretty sure it’s a girl, though), a separate satchel with clothes for Julie,
and a large, square box-like purse that I found out later was her make-up kit. How old is this child, anyway? There may have been more, but it took her and
her Daddy to get it all in from the truck.
She hauled everything into the den and began the unloading process. Oh, I guess she did manage a quick “See ya
Daddy” moment in there before he left.
She was focused.
And by focused I mean, it was time to
unload that suitcase. And was I ever
unprepared for what was inside. Oh, there
was the usual clothing, although I thought she may have gone just a little
overboard. There were shorts and
t-shirts and underwear – enough for at least a week. And she carefully lined each collection in a
neat row in front of the TV. But then
she uncovered her two “outfits.” I guess
that must be female code for “dress.”
There were two of them. She
assured us one was for her to wear to church.
The other was for “if we have to go out anywhere.” She was momentarily distracted from the fashion
show when she came across a box of some kind.
It seemed to really excite her to show it to us. And rightly so. It was her very own jewelry box. She already has quite the collection,
especially of earrings. I was fascinated
by the box, myself. No matter which way
you turned it, there were drawers. One
had an old watch. Another had a dollar
bill. She refused my immediate request
for a loan though. And when you opened the
very top of the box, a ballerina popped up.
Sadly, the jewelry box adventure came to a rapid conclusion when she
remembered the most important items yet to come.
Her entire countenance seemed to change in
an instant when she got to this final portion of her unpacking. Her eyes lit up. A kick of adrenaline surged through her
veins. A few final, obviously extraneous
pieces of clothing were flung aside, and she abruptly sat back on her heels for
a long moment. She breathed a sigh of
adoration as she took in the extraordinary sight that met her eyes. By this time she certainly had my
attention. I couldn’t see whatever it
was from my vantage point, but I was just praying that it wasn’t alive. Slowly she reached in, as if the object of
her admiration was more precious than the finest gold. Even more slowly she raised them from their
honored perch and held them up for all to see, to join her in her reverie. And the object? A pair of shoes. Yep.
Sorry to break the mood, but I am a guy and, well, shoes? Really?
Oh, but she wasn’t done yet. As I
shook my head and rubbed my eyes (yes, see, I had been afraid that I would miss
something, so I had been on the edge of my seat, riveted by the mystery about
to unfold. That means I had been afraid
to even blink. And then for the “surprise”
to be of such proportion, I was just … dumbfounded), she carefully placed those
shoes to the side and reached in … for another pair. And
then … another. And … another. Before she was finished she had five
different pair of shoes lined up next to her clothes, gazing adoringly at the
array. Shoes. Aunt Christi, I do believe you have a kindred
spirit down here.
Psalms 40:2 says, “He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my
feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand.”
Father, thank you for your stability. It’s great to know I can always trust
you. Amen.
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