stuck

This week's absent-minded-professor-moment hits me Wednesday night as I'm in the throes of cooking: Crikey! I forgot to buy paper towels, even though they were on the grocery list. I am reminded of this oversight as I finsh setting the table for dinner. In our house, no paper towels means no napkins. A lack of napkins at the dinner table has, in the past, caused a stir. This is not something I want to recreate. The soup is hot, I've already beckoned husband and son to eat it, and the table is absolutely, one hundred percent napkin-less. The empty space where the roll of paper towels should be taunts me: evil prongs installed beneath the cupboard, parentheses made of brushed steel, courtesy of Target. I'm about to be in trouble.

A vague memory of cloth napkins pops into my head. We haven't used them in a long time, a decade or more, but they must still be around. Rushing into the dining room I struggle to open a rarely-used drawer in a rarely-used cabinet, into which we shove all of our earthly treasures: silver candlesticks (now covered in wax) given at our wedding by friends we don't know anymore, hundreds of old photos, and—somewhere—a few tablecloths and napkins. The first drawer I try is stuck, but a mighty heave pulls it ajar. At a glance, seeing only boxes of clippings and mementos of Gray's babyhood, I try to close it and move on to the next. No luck. Now it's stuck open. This will cause more trouble. Drat you, drawer! I hear the boys taking their places at the table. Toning down my struggle with the furniture so as not to advertise, I reposition myself to get a better grip and more traction. Silently I try one final shove, employing every ounce strength my 110 pound frame can muster, but it won't budge. And then it occurs to me: Look under the boxes, Girl. Maybe God is the one keeping the drawer open.

There they are: three white cotton napkins, all that remain of the original four. Their condition is not exactly pristine, but they will do perfectly for this humble meal, for our family trio. Pulling them out, the drawer closes without any further trouble. Dinner is saved, and so am I.

Sometimes obstacles are given as gifts. Best to slow down and take a good long look at each one. As my friend Marsha likes to say, "It's not rejection, it's redirection."

When they came to the border of Mysia, they tried to enter Bithynia, but the Spirit of Jesus would not allow them to. ~ Acts 16:7


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