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Shopping
Cart Prayers, Garage Sale Answers
By Jerri Phillips
These days
Anna finds herself in a difficult
position. She seems to be going through a
growth spurt because she often complains
of her knees hurting. It is very common
for her to ask to be carried or to ride
in some way because walking hurts.
She enjoys riding in our double stroller
or even in one of our single strollers,
but those are not convenient for grocery
shopping. When we go grocery shopping, I
try to find the carts with the toddler
seats attached, but sometimes I
can’t, and Anna has to walk.
However, even when I can find those,
Anna’s life is not all roses.
You see, Anna is afraid of shopping
carts. She neither likes to ride in them
herself, nor does she like for her little
brother to ride in them. They too easily
become “out of control”, and
that’s not good.
The fear started one day when Anna was in
a shopping cart, and I let it go to put
Robert in the car. The cart began rolling
away from me. Anna began to scream. I
immediately grabbed the cart, but the
damage was done. For several weeks, Anna
didn’t want me to put either of them
into a cart for fear it would become out
of control. Since Robert is too heavy to
carry for extended periods, I simply have
to put him in the cart. Anna refused to
ride but stayed close to the shopping
cart. If I let go of it, she’d
become upset and grab it. “Mommy,
it’ll get out of control.”
“Honey, we’re on a flat surface
in a store. It won’t roll.”
Next she graduated to, “Are you sure
it’s under control?”
“I’m sure. Trust me, honey.
I’ve got it under control.”
I’ll be honest. At first the
questions were the precious concerns of a
3-year old. Now, they are annoying. I
think, ‘Surely by now she knows I
have control of the buggy, and she can
quit worrying.’ No. She
doesn’t. She still asks, and my
frustration has become more and more
obvious.
My attitude changed this past week. I got
an object lesson in being a child
wondering if the “cart” I am in
is under control or not.
Last week, I sat down to my computer and
pulled up our Internet startup page to
see that the FDA had approved the
abortion pill RU-486. Tears filled my
eyes, and my world went to spinning.
This was more than political; it was
personal.
I had prayed against partial-birth
abortion, but it passed. I had prayed
that Nebraska’s ban on partial-birth
abortion would stand, but it was struck
down. I prayed against the freedom of
teens to get abortions without their
parents being notified. I lost that one,
too. I have prayed against a lot of
murderous rights that are being all too
prevalent now, and I had lost each
battle. Now, I had lost on RU-486.
I was saddened. I was sickened, and I was
angry. I felt like my cart was out of
control, and I was pretty mad at the One
letting me run willy-nilly through the
anti-life political establishment. And
let me tell you, I told Him all about it,
too.
“What’s with that?!” I
cried. “Just an easier way to murder
babies. You have to hate this. Why
aren’t you stopping it? What do we
have to do to get you to hear our prayers
and act on our behalf? No offense, but
are you listening at all? I need to know
because I’m discouraged and I’m
wondering why I should pray about these
issues if you aren’t going to
answer? Am I the problem? Am I praying
wrong? Is there something I need to be
doing? If so, what? Please, God, I feel
like I am out here on my own, and I
don’t know why you aren’t out
here with me. Please. Speak to me.”
Now, God has spoken clearly to me before.
I have heard the audible voice of God and
the still quiet voice of God. I’ve
heard Him speak to me through people,
through scripture, through sermons, and
through song. Each time was clear and
unmistakable. The Lord knows when we need
those messages, and He knew I was at that
point. I was in deep need of an
unmistakable message, and He spoke to
me…at a garage sale.
Friday, the children and I were on our
way from a friend’s house when we
stopped by to peruse a garage sale. One
of the items for sale was a toddler bed.
Anna really wanted that bed. The bed she
has had since her crib went away well
over a year ago consists of her mattress
sitting on the springs of a daybed.
I had found the daybed at a garage sale.
While it was in need of repainting, we
were in desperate need of a bed, and for
$3.00, it fit the immediate need. Before
Italy and pregnancy complications, I was
able to get quite a bit sanded, but it
still needed a few more hours work. The
decorative knobs had to be replaced so
the open pipes were not a danger to her.
Also, we found out it needed some
hardware, and when all that was added
together, I just wasn’t terribly
motivated to work on it, so Anna didn
’t have a “real” bed, and
she wanted one badly.
However, she really is too big for a
toddler bed. My mind bounced back and
forth as she ogled the bed. Finally, a
decision was made. No toddler bed. When I
told Anna, she didn’t cry or fuss.
She merely prayed, “God, I still
need a bed. Oh, God, please find me a
bed.” Her simple prayer moved my
heart.
The next morning I had to run by the
grocery store, and on the way, I decided
I’d see if the bed had been sold. If
not, I’d buy it for her, and when
she was too big for it, we could store it
for Robert.
When I turned onto the street where we
had visited the garage sale the day
before, my heart drooped. Not only was
the bed gone, the whole garage sale was
gone! Anna’s bed. Deep sigh.
“Well, at least I don’t have to
wonder if I’m doing the right thing
or not. Thank you for that, but I’m
sad for
Anna.”
Close to that house was an entire
neighborhood having a garage sale.
“30+ houses” the sign said.
Park, walk, and shop. My kind of early
fall Saturday morning activity.
The neighborhood was a really nice one,
which can mean one of two things. It can
mean really nice things at really high
prices, which in my experience tends to
be the case, or it may mean good things
at bargain prices. I was thrilled to find
it was the latter.
When I turned into the neighborhood, I
had to bypass the first house due to
cars. When I found an open parking spot,
I parked and walked down the block a
ways. When I had exhausted that route, I
went back to my car to store my treasures
and move my car to a more strategic
place. Since I had not seen anything of
interest when I had driven by, I had
decided not to go back to the first
house. However, it was a beautiful, cool
morning, and I was up to the walk, so I
changed my mind and meandered back to the
house I had passed.
I zigzagged through the parked cars to
the lovely home. There were few items
left when I turned onto the driveway.
However, as I glanced around, I spied a
dismantled bed near the garage. As I was
walking up to it, I heard a man ask about
it. I was sure my ears had misheard the
price because he said he would have to
think about it. It was a beautiful daybed
in great condition with a trundle,
perfect for company and sleepovers. I am
a pretty fair negotiator, so I thought
about a good price and set my mind for
haggling.
“Pardon me, but I didn’t hear
the price for the bed.”
“Ten dollars.”
“It’s mine!”
I handed the woman my money, and we began
to wonder how to get the bed in my
midsize car. Even with the backseats
down, it wouldn’t fit.
“Lord, how am I supposed to get this
home?”
The prayer was not even past my lips when
the answer appeared. A precious lady from
our church drove up in her van. She
walked immediately up to me and asked if
I needed help. If I hadn’t been so
overjoyed, I think I would have fallen to
my knees and cried in humble gratitude
right there on the lawn.
Later that afternoon Anna’s new
daybed arrived at our home, and we
assembled it with ease. Not even a washer
was missing. The color is ideal for her
room, and she rests soundly in her new
bed. She beams and tells us often how
much she likes the new bed God gave her.
I smile back. “God always provides
for His children, “ I say to her. He
gave Anna the new bed she asked for, and
He gave me the new hope I needed.
For Anna, the bed was a place to sleep.
For me, it was the distinct message,
“I am still on my throne. I still
hear prayers, and I still answer
them.” For both of us, it provided a
place we could rest peacefully.
I still don’t know why Christians
seem to be taking such a political
beating right now. We can no longer pray
at football games, and it looks like we
won’t be able to pray at graduations
either. People can murder babies when the
precious ones are not perfect enough or
when they are considered an
inconvenience. Murderers can walk into
schools or churches and slaughter
Christians simply because of their
profession of faith, but that isn’t
considered a hate crime. I don’t
understand why those things continue
without abatement.
I am far from the only one who has prayed
and warred against such things, and the
situations seem to be getting worse, not
better. I don’t know why. I have
heard theories, and for each theory, I
have heard a rebuttal. To all of it, all
I can say personally is I don’t
know. I don’t understand.
All I really know is I have only One
hope. Thankfully, He is still on His
throne, and He still answers my prayers.
Even when I don’t see the clear
touch of The Lord’s hand, I know
that He is there keeping a Father’s
protective eye on my “cart”,
and even when it seems to be rolling to
who knows where, I need not be afraid
because He is always in control.
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