life's little trials

The movers arrived at 9:10 a.m. on Tuesday morning. The load-up was uneventful and we arrived noonish at Mum’s new home about 5 minutes before the truck did. The unload also went smoothly -- until we noticed the bedrail was missing (this is an extra we bought at the medical supply store, not easy to miss and which we'd left on top of her bed in preparation for the movers to load). The mover boys combed the truck, neither remembered seeing it and so we dropped the matter thinking it must have inadvertently been left in the apartment.

About three hours later while helping Mum unpack, I realized the seat cushion for the La-Z-Boy was also missing. We actually saw the movers take this out of the apartment so knew we wouldn’t find it there.

In due course we phoned the moving company about both things and the very personable lady who answers the phone said she'd have more on this the next morning after she’d seen the movers’ filed report. I must admit, though, that after they’d searched the truck twice to find the bedrail when we first discovered it was missing, and it still hadn’t turned up after later after they delivered a few more pieces of furniture to our house, I wasn’t optimistic.

Now we did have insurance so I knew that the cost of replacing the things would be at least partly covered by the movers. The bedrail would be easy to replace - just go to the medical supply store and get a new one. The cushion was another thing altogether. How do you replace a cushion that is upholstered in the exact same fabric as the rest of the chair?

Tuesday night, tired as I was, I had a hard time sleeping. As I lay staring into the dark, my annoyance over those missing things grew and I struggled with resentment, anger and assigning blame.

I also realized that this felt like a bit of a test. It seemed like a test of whether I actually would live out what I say I believe about things like "And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God..." (Romans 8:28). So all night when negative thoughts started burning inside me again, I splashed the cold water of praise and thanksgiving on them..."God I know You're in this. I praise You that nothing is out of your control and that You know exactly where those lost things are. If there is some reason why we would need to replace these things, I accept that. If not, I call them back..."

Early Wednesday morning in my devotions, I came to the passage: "It shall come to pass that before they call I will answer; While they are still speaking, I will hear" (Isaiah 65:24). I hugged that to myself as I went into the day.

As I expected, a call to the movers didn’t turn up anything. I was out doing some errands later when the cell phone rang. It was Ernie calling to say he'd phoned the caretaker in Mum's old building and indeed the two items had been left in the foyer! The caretaker had rescued them, not knowing whose they were and would now put them back in mum's apartment for us to pick up. Nice ending!

But alas, I think I’m being tested on trusting God in the not-so-nice things again. I came home from unpacking at Mum's Tuesday night with a sore left arm, which has blossomed into a case of exquisitely painful bursitis of the shoulder. (And this just before a busy weekend and with still a lot of cleaning to do in the old apartment...) I know – I don’t have to, neither will I ever figure out the whys and wherefores of all these little trials of life. For tonight, though, I have a perfect excuse to indulge in a quiet evening at home.

Meanwhile Mum seems to be settling into her new home quite nicely. Tomorrow we’re doing stuff like going to the bank, changing her address at the post office and shopping for a small table.