October 8, 2011
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