The Case Of The Chair – Not There?

It was only last week that my mother and I had been in a store that sold curtains, sheet sets, and furniture.  As we walked around the store and through the furniture section, my mother saw a reclining swivel chair with footstool.  She sits in it.  I hear a “aaaaaaaah” sound of delight.  “This is so comfortable,” she says.  She gets up and we continue to walk about the store; then we leave.

Yesterday we were back in the store meandering about when we again walked through the furniture section.  There was the chair, only this time it was on sale!  A third off!  We were delighted and decided to purchase the chair.

It took a while to find any personnel.  I walked around as did my mother but we could find no one.  Finally I went to the check out counter and asked if help could be called.  The young girl replies, “There should be someone on the floor.”  I can feel my frustration rising at this obvious statement.  “I agree,” I reply, “but there isn’t, which is why I’m asking you to please call someone.”  I feel my face stretch into a smile which I know is fake because inside an irritation is beginning to occur.  I remind myself to calm down.  Someone will come and all will be well.

I return to the furniture section to wait with my mother, and sure enough, someone comes to help us —  or so I thought.  I tell the sales clerk that we like this chair and want to buy it.  I add that we would need it delivered.  “Of course,” the young girl assures us with a smile.  She sits down with an iPad and begins typing.  “Hmmm,” she hums, “I don’t seem to find it in the system.  I need the exact name of the chair.”  She excuses herself to go and find the name when I announce, “Here’s the name on the tag.”  She glances, smiles, says, “Oh, yeah.”  We all chuckle and she continues typing on her iPad.  “I just need to go and consult with my colleague.  The name isn’t registered.”  It was then I glanced at her iPad and see the misspelling of the type of chair.  “It’s not spelled correctly,” I say, “would that make a difference?”  She chuckles and retypes.  I see a photo of the chair appear on the screen.  I sigh in relief and relax as I feel we are getting somewhere.  I was wrong.  “I’ll be right back,” she says.  “I just need to check something.” She leaves.

My mother is sitting in the chair to be purchased.  “This sure is comfortable,” she says.  I feel happy that we will soon be getting this chair.

The young girl returns.  “I’m so sorry,” she begins, while wearing a great big smile on her face as if she isn’t actually sorry; she’s elated.  Must be the training I think to myself.  She then explains, “We can’t deliver the chair because we no longer have them.”  “Pardon?”  I hear myself ask.  She repeats her statement with the same smile of elation stretched to its fullest.  It was at this point that the frustration I had felt earlier was suddenly full blown aggravation.

At such moments do you ever begin to envision a scenario in your mind?  I do and at that moment of rising anger, my mind starts to think about the Flintstones.  It’s Bam-Bam with his amazing strength.  He takes rogue dinosaurs by the tail and bad guys by the hair of the head and wham wham fwap fwap they are being banged from one side to the other by Bam-Bam.  I want to stress at this point that I absolutely did not grab her ponytail and do the same.  My arm twitched with desire but I did not do it!

I want to further emphasize that I refrained from sarcasm, perhaps saying something like, “Hon, if you come here and carefully stretch out your hand and touch this object, guess what?  It’s the chair!”  I didn’t say it although the visions of Bam-Bam still danced in my head.   It was my mother who uttered with some astonishment, “What do you mean you don’t have it?  I’m sitting in it.  Here it is.”  She is standing now and pointing to the chair.

“Oh,” the girl laughs, “no let me explain.  When we place an order it comes from the warehouse.  They don’t have anymore.”  I ask if the store can deliver.  No we are told, the store can’t deliver.  We can have the chair if we take it ourselves.  We then leave because, of course, neither my mother nor I can heave ho the chair onto our backs.  Neither could we ram it into my little car.

All the way home I feel fury boiling inside.  All peace is shattered.  Pictures in my mind of Bam-Bam have fully taken over.  My arm tingles with the delicious sensation of wham wham wham!  Did I pray about this aggravation?  No.  I admit it never occurred to me; I was consumed with agro!

Back at home while my mother puts the kettle on I turn on my laptop and go to Amazon.  After typing the name of the chair and clicking, the chair appears.  I stare in unbelief.  There it is — half the price plus free delivery!  I start to laugh and call my mother.  We order the chair.  It is promised be with us on Tuesday.

I sit and contemplate the Lord’s care of us even when we don’t know it; even through visions of Bam-Bam whamming.  Even in the seemingly insignificant, in spite of personal rising frustrations, blessings are coming.  I thank Him that His eyes are ever watching over, always blessing; and I think too, God must have been laughing also with the action of The Flintstones playing out in my mind.

“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.”  James 1:17