Cool breezes blew us in through the sliding glass doors. Once inside, we were greeted by the signs of progress. A remodel. Tall sheets of white plastic squared off a large portion of the middle of the store and reached to the ceiling high above. Displays were pushed out of the way, making shopping possible around the perimeter of the hidden operation.
Loud noises, tools at work and the voices of the workmen were the only signs of life from the plastic expanse. We were left to wonder what tools made that sound and what was being changed. For a small person, the unknown was mysterious and perhaps a little frightening. The changing sounds, louder than softer, metal grinding, pounding, men talking, voices laughing, No matter where we found ourselves in the store, her eyes were fixated on the white expanse. She asked questions about it. Talked about her daddy's tools. Finally, she asked us to take her closer to the plastic. Grandma and Evie set off.
They didn't last long. As they approached their destination her eyes grew as wide as saucers, her chin quivered. She asked for mama. I met them in the main aisle. She grabbed my neck and held on tightly, murmuring softly about the plastic and the noises. When asked if she was scared, she was quick to assure us that she was not. She will never admit to being scared or feeling sick. I'm not sure where she developed a knack for the power of positive thinking, but I hope to learn a thing or two. There is much to be said about choosing our thoughts well.
And we were on our way home again, shopping bags tucked safely in the trunk, Evie decorating her legs with brightly colored egg and flower stickers with thoughts of big, white plastic and big, scary tool noises adhered like a sticker to her memory.
She is still talking about that plastic, which is rather ironic, because I've been thinking about plastic too.
A few weeks ago I was talking with my sister on the phone about the great unknown: life. We talked about the moments when we face circumstances for which we have no answers, no plan, no ideas. The moments when we simply wait and trust that God is moving behind the scenes of what we see. Our hands are tied. Even in (especially in) the waiting, He is working, like the signs of progress in my local Target or a shopping mall, the thick white plastic stops us from stepping into what we are not yet meant to experience. Our moments of darkness and the unknown are not darkness to Him. Behind the plastic, God is moving. He has the master plan and is skillfully yielding the tools that will put together all of the fine details, the ones that make us panic and the many more that we will never even know to thank Him for. God sees the unseen.
One day the plastic will come down. The doors will open. And we will step into the beauty of God's work.
As one who sees words in pictures, I am so grateful to my sister for sharing her word picture with me. A tangible picture of God's mysterious workings.
"Therefore we do not lose heart, but though our outer man is decaying,
yet our inner man is being renewed day by day.
For momentary light affliction is producing for us an
eternal weight of glory far beyond all comparison,
while we look not at the things which are seen,
but at the things which are not seen: for the things which are seen are temporal,
but the things which are not seen are eternal."
II Corintinans 4:16-18
Thou hast enclosed me behind and before, and laid Thy hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is too high, I cannot attain to it."
Psalms 139:5-6
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