A Tender Mercy

Yesterday Lola was sick. I just recovered from that same illness after about three weeks of misery, so I know how it goes. One of the main symptoms was an intense craving (like unto that of a pregnant woman) for a delicious pastry. One day I had to drag myself out of bed and go shopping for a delicious pastry. I found a semi-delicious pastry at Costco, which went a long way toward assuaging my delicious-pastry thirst. (Note: I had to qualify "delicious pastry," otherwise daltonboy would have gone to the day-old bread store and purchased something off the Manager's Special rack. And then I would have barfed. No, I wanted something good.)

So I wasn't surprised when Lola told me she wanted chocolate cake, and was probably going to die if she didn't get it. I believed her. Unfortunately, I had a bad migraine at the time, and was trying really hard to spend the day in a darkened room, moving as little as possible. So baking a chocolate cake wasn't really high on my priority list. Still, I remembered the anguish of wanting a delicious pastry. So I took an Excedrin, which helped a little, and once the edge was off, I got up and whipped up a quick chocolate cake. It's important to mention here that Lola hadn't asked for chocolate cake--she just mentioned that she was craving it. She had no expectations at all. This was also a symptom of the illness. I spoke incessantly of the delicious pastry until I had it in my mouth. So I made the cake, then I got back in bed and told Lola that if she wanted her cake, she was going to have to take it out of the oven when the timer went off. I have my limits.

Lola was happy and grateful. I was glad that she didn't die of her craving, and I also enjoyed one piece of chocolate cake. Did she need the cake in order to get well? No. But I love her, and I want her to be comfortable and happy. If this involves sweets when she is sick, so be it. I flatter myself I sometimes know how to give good gifts to my children.

All this to illustrate a point about what happened next.

We got new windows. They are lovely. Hopefully, they are going to cut thousands of dollars off our heating bill each month. For sure they are going to keep us safe, because they 1) lock, and 2) don't pop out of their tracks silently and easily. In order to protect Lola from the rapists that would have figured out sooner or later that our home is defenseless, I have allowed ivy to completely grow over the windows. It's been effective, but maybe not the best choice, especially since the ivy has begun to grow through the windows and into the house. The only house plants I've ever been able to sustain! Also a giant spider nest. So we cut the ivy away and got new windows.

The new windows were not cheap. This has caused us to feel slightly stressed about money. However, this has not stopped us (me) from wanting new stuff to make our windows look good. Since we had to move all our furniture around for the windows anyway, and since we are starting a painting project anyway, and since we might be having Thanksgiving at our house, I got the idea that maybe we could go to IKEA and check out the office furniture. How delightful it would be, I thought, if we had some matching furniture in our little office, instead of the forty-year-old, mismatched, dented metal D.I. desks and printer stands made out of stacks of old LPs. I don't aspire to be an interior decorator, and I'm not asking for fancy furniture. My requests are modest, but it would be nice if our stuff matched sometimes.

We took a trip to IKEA and found pretty much exactly what we were looking for. Unfortunately it would cost us about $400.

After listening to general conference last weekend and receiving counsel on frugality, and after already feeling guilty about spending money on windows, and after realizing that we only have about $200 to spend, which was already allocated to new blinds, we decided to leave without purchasing anything. Well, okay, we bought four soup bowls, because all our other ones have mysteriously disappeared. No one is willing to excavate Lola's room to see if they're there. So judge me. I spent $10 on bowls.

Anyway. I came home and thought about how I really wanted new desks, but it would be ridiculous to spend that much money on something we don't really need, and I am being materialistic and silly for wanting brand new furniture. Also, I am grateful that we have so much that I can even expend energy on wanting matching desks.

Yesterday, daltonboy stopped off at D.I. on the way home from work. If you've ever been to D.I., or any second-hand store, you know the probability of finding two pieces of matching furniture there. And if you do find matching furniture, you know the probability of having it be something you actually want. And if, by some miracle, it is something you want, it's mostly likely been trashed beyond repair. Imagine DB's delight at finding two matching desks, slightly worn but in good condition, in exactly the style, size, and color we wanted. For $20 each. Imagine my shock and amazement! Imagine my gratitude and awe. Such a small thing, but something I wanted. And I had (almost) decided to put my selfish interests aside, do the right thing, and stay out of IKEA.

Could this qualify as a tender mercy? I say that it could, and that it does. So sweet, so loving, so unnecessary, but ever so gratefully and humbly received! And I never even considered asking.

Matthew 7:11
If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Father which is in heaven give good things to them that ask Him?

How very tempting it is at this point to make out a list of additional things it would be really fun to have . . .