Lessons on Stuff

Perhaps this will be a surpise to those of you who know me, but I am a veritable paradox of values (and my husband says 'Amen!'). I have an un-natural drive to be thrifty (do I hear cheap?), while at the same time longing for highest quality items which I will never be able to afford, nor would I ever allow myself to splurge on even if I could. All this to tell you I have a special bed. A single piece of furniture that finally blended my two selves...$1500, solid maple, 4-poster giant of a bed, purchased brand-new from Eddie Bauer home for $200. The irony is that in the 9 years and 4 houses that have passed since this monumental, crowning achievement of a purchase, it's never once actually fit well in our bedroom. We had become masters of re-arranging our lives to fit this bed into its rightful place of honor. In our last house, we even had to relegate it to the spare bedroom where it became our 3-year old's bed. And still it survived with not a scratch. Then came this call to Africa, and I knew what it meant. No shipping crate, no matter how generous the Mission Board, was going to fit my bed. But I was brave, and we made arrangements to transport it down to my parent's farm for savekeeping.

We have moved more times than I like to remember, and with careful wrapping and packaging, this bed of mine has been preserved. But your ears are perking up rightfully, for of course this time was different. In the process of transporting the bed from the storage unit to the trailer, it fell over in a thunderous crash heard around the world. In stunned silence we picked it up and stared in horror at the deeply pockmarketsed knobs at the top of the stately posters. No, dear. It can NOT be sanded down and refinished.

I'm embarassed to admit it, but I cried. As Chad initially tried to comfort me, and then felt the need to remind me "it's just a bed, honey" I said in all honest melodrama, "Just let me cry. I'm counting the cost, ok!"

So we've sold our dream house and almost all our belongings. We've prepared to say good-bye to friends and family, made plans to leave good jobs, and I'm possibly giving up my carreer as a Nurse Practitioner. And I count the cost when my obscenely large, too-big-for-my-life bed gets a boo-boo. That tells you two things: what a powerful hold our "stuff" has on us, and how sometimes the true emotions get displaced to inappropriate events. I do love my bed, but I'm grieving loss of relationships much more. It's just safer to cry over the bed, isn't it? We adults really aren't that different than our 2-year olds.

So whatever makes you finally 'count the cost' of living obediently to Christ, let the counting begin. And whatever makes you feel safe enough to grieve that cost, cry away I say. As for me, I would love to hope that silly damaged bed-frame is the worst I'll face, but what are the odds of that? But I will obey anyway, and will now always see that damaged knob as a reminder of my treasures in heaven, where things will always be the highest quality, not cost a cent, and will never again have to be moved!!!