As I was saying to a very dear friend yesterday, writing a blog post when you are upset is a lot like going to the grocery store when you are hungry. Things get purchased (or said, in the case of a blog) that will no doubt be regretted at some point down the road.
For, while I would have sounded like I was blasting YOU, you are not the someones that my little firey heart wants to blast. True, there is a group of people that I would like to give a piece of my mind, but I will not use you as the cat that I proverbially want to kick.
Alas, even though I have told Hubbs that he needs to come up with some Indian Warrior Princess name for me due to how often I have been on a rampage lately (and then subsequently realizing that is ridiculous because OBVIOUSLY I would be called something epic like Running Wolf or the similar, and that would be the end of discussion), I decided I won't bowl you over with my warfare. At least not yet. At least not until I can figure out how it might be edifying to all peoples, you and me included.
So that's why it's been two weeks since we have chatted.
Therefore, today I bring you something else entirely.
I would love to go on and on about how much I love projects, but I have done that before and that's not why you are here, so today I won't. But I got it in my head to reupholster a chair (as I have told you) and by George (since I love projects---*ahem*), I reupholstered that chair.
Isn't she a beauty, if I do say so myself? I was going for kind of the squishy, rumpled, French look, and I think I got it!
Now, you might be thinking, "Well, I suppose it's a nice chair...but it is a just a chair," and you would be right. But look at what it looked like BEFORE:
Isn't there something so wonderful and spiritual about BEFORE pictures? It's a tangible way to see that we are not like how we once were. Amen to that.
Ripping a chair apart was so interesting because I got to see how it was actually made. Brilliant.
In the middle of progress....
And there is the end again.
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| And yes, that is a sweet wolf hanging in my living room. Did you expect anything less? |
Now. All of the my happiness with the chair now does not mean that there weren't a few "bumps in the road" as they say. No. To put it mildly, this was not a battle "funly" won.
As Ella warned me, "Oh honey, it's exhausting work. Mentally and physically. You will be exhausted."
She was right. I have done any number of physical labor jobs over the years, but this was the most rigorous. The most backbreaking.
And it also showed a crack in my soul a bit and it all started with two too many trips to Home Depot....
So the story goes that I love Home Depot. Always have. But I didn't at this stage of the game. I had worked for days ripping the old self off this chair, using the pieces as a pattern for the new self to be attached; I had stripped the wood of its old grime and stain, sanded, re-stained, sanded, re-stained, and then applied something like 6 coats of polyurethane. Excessive, I know. I had bought new stuffing, I had cut it all to size, all that was left was to go buy my stapler, my staples, and the sweet upholstery tacks.
Yes.
In one fell swoop at said HD, I made my rounds like a pro, picking up what I thought was exactly what I needed.
Like a flash, I was home again, situating all my pieces, ready to start, when I load my new staple gun with my new staples, push it up to the wooden arms to tack my batting, and BANG! goes the staple gun.
Pleased that I was really doing it (!!!), I pulled the gun back to see that beautiful staple when, looking, I didn't see anything.
WHAT?
Bang, goes the gun again.
Nothing.
Bang bang.
Nothing.
BANG BANG BANG.
NOTHING NOTHING NOTHING.
It turns out, Wolfies, that I had bought light duty staples.
Ugh.
And light duty staples do not go into sold wood chair frames.
Annoyed, but still fired up (I told you I have been on a lot of rampages these days), I hurriedly drove back to HD, returned my staples for a whole $4, bought the heavy duty staples, drove b ack home, and headed straight to the chair.
New staples in hand, gun in other, I go to load the gun chamber when....the chamber won't close.
Seriously annoyed now, and bordering on dejected, I look over all my supplies to realize that, yes, I had bought the right staples this time.....but I had bought the wrong staple gun the first time.
Despite the fact that the package said "Perfect for Upholstery Work," this was, indeed, a LIGHT duty stapler.
And this was still a solid wood chair frame.
Blast.
Blast, blast, blast.
Really dejected now, I head into Hubbs office, in tears, and tell him the whole story. He is nice and gentle, but he has to get back to work. He can't come hang out and help me forget my woes.
Sulking, I walk out to my kitchen and think, "I will make a cup of coffee and drink my sorrows down...." only to be offended by my own thoughts and with the realization that I don't WANT a cup of coffee.
And, more importantly, .....coffee.....won't.....help........I still have to go back to Home Depot.
Have you ever come to that realization? That all the things you typically use to "make things better" don't actually make it better at all? It all makes sense now that you have been deceiving yourself the whole time.
Coffee didn't bring the problem on, and coffee won't let the problem go.
I went and sat on my couch, looking at my Bible on the coffee table that had remained unopened that morning. I had a chair to reupholster, for crying out loud!!
Like a ton of feathers it hit me: my husband can't heal my hurt pride and coffee won't make me feel better in those times that I know I failed.
Only Jesus can.
So, my challenge to you on this point, because I was challenged by it, is, "What are you medicating with that can't fix your problem?" and "Why are you continuing along this same path over and over again?"
Contrary to what Pinterest memes and pop culture alike will tell you, there are some things that can't be fixed by your beverage of choice.
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Now, as I sat there finding Jesus in the midst of my dashed state, I was alarmed by ANOTHER idol that chose that time to ask me if I could worship him.
It started with the thought: "What if HD won't let me return my stapler, since I have already, for all intensive purposes, destroyed the packaging?"
Let me say, this was not a hugely expensive staple gun. Pretty run of the mill, and yet I was plagued with these fears and doubts about "What if I can't return it???"
Why in the world do I care? It's not a large sum of money I would lose, we are not (by the grace of God) at a time in life where money is tight, etc etc....THIS SHOULDN'T BE A BIG DEAL.
Why, then, was it?
God is so good to give us Lightbulb moments, do you know that?
It was a big deal to me because I realized that this staple gun was the last thing I was going to be able to buy with MY money.
We believe that in marriage what is his is mine and what is mine is his and everything from here on out is ours......or.....well......I thought I believed that. I claimed I believed that.
Clearly, though, I didn't.
We had done all of the typical post-wedding legal and business stuff to make us bound to each other in every way and make practically what is mine his and his mine, but there was this one small account I still had, that rather than transfer the little in there that was left, I was just going to use it all up and then shut the account down. So out of this account I had been purchasing things for the house, Christmas gifts.....upholstery supplies....
.....but my money had run out.
And that was a fact I was not internalizing very well, thus putting me in agony over not being able to return that stapler and get the right one! Because for the first time I would have to use HIS money to get something just for ME.
I would like to blame the feminist movement in this culture for making me feel like I am less of a human being if I don't have MY OWN money, my own security, my own INDEPENDENCE, but it's not them. It's my sin nature that responds to their message. It's the part of Old Me that doesn't want to have to rely on ANYONE. It's the part of me I am struggling to let Christ nail to the cross that says that I am only worth what I can Do and Accomplish and BRING TO THE SITUATION...or marriage...or Home Depot.
Marriage, it would seem, was uncovering a couple of my false deities.
In that Sunday School class I have mentioned to you, the pastor leading it said, "If you see an area of your life where you have a hard time serving others, subjecting yourself to their God-given position and authority, it's probably because you aren't subjecting yourself to the authority of God in that area of your life either."
Yikes.
If that is true, then could it be that my marriage....or rather.....this CHAIR....has shown me that I am having a hard time submitting to God in the area of being autonomous? Independent. Able to do it myself, thank you very much. Could my spirit of going against the grain, which God has used to keep me out of all kinds of bad situations in life, now be causing me conflict with HIM? Not wanting to submit to HIM? And subsequently not wanting to let my husband play his role of being primary provider for our family?
Am I robbing everyone of their job, is really what it all boils down to?
I was not wanting to let God be God and have control. I was, figuratively, not letting Hubbs be Hubbs and provide for me because not only am I his wife, but also because he wants to. And I was robbing myself of knowing the beautiful reality that, ultimately, God doesn't need me get things done, provide for my needs,... or even buy a stapler. He's got me covered. And I can stop striving and rest in that.
He is not finished with me yet, babes. I may be further along than the "Before" picture, but I am most assuredly still in the "In Process" stage.
Thanks, Chair, for showing me these things. You are even prettier now when I look at you.
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