Sometimes the Little Things are Very Big

The store where I bought my kitchen cabinets delivered the wrong shelves twice. The first time I was a little annoyed, but counted it as an honest mistake. The second time I was really annoyed… and then was on the verge of steaming when the delivery guy told me to just find a carpenter and have him cut them. What carpenter? How do I find a carpenter? How do I take all these shelves somewhere without a car? It’s not my problem, miss.
So, today, I did it. I put the shelves in my rolling shopping bag and called a taxi. I made a list of all the carpenters in my area. Nope. Nope. Nope. The taxi driver suggested a lumber yard right outside the city. I rolled my bright green and blue flowered shopping bag ignoring the seven men who watched wide-eyed as I made my way through the stacks of wood to the office in the back. No – but you might try one of the big Home-Depot type stores way outside the city. My taxi driver warned me that they were far, but we were already half way.
An hour and a half later I was able to install the shelves… and I cried as I did it.
Those shelves represent a problem. One that I felt shouldn’t have belonged to me in the first place. One that I could have been solved in a few minutes with the hands of my dad or one of the Rogers in Haiti. One that Matt, my team leader, would have taken care of for me. And one that for some reason or another – God wanted me to live through and learn through. I know that people think I am braver than I am – and more independent than I am. But I didn’t want to take care of this. I wanted to ask someone else. But, I needed to stand on my own two feet and be the grown up and just deal with it.
And they represent a language. An argument with the delivery guy. A conversation about the book the taxi driver was reading. A discussion at each of the places I stopped at which didn’t have the correct saw. A long brainstorming session with the guy who eventually did cut my shelves. And a good talk with one of the ladies at the store who said, “Your Italian is excellent for living here for only three months.”
Those shelves are more than a little piece of setting up my home here in Italy. They are reminders that God is going to be faithful as I try. He’s already been.


Popular Posts