New clothes and a pink kitchen

In the early years of getting to know God, I talked with Him about everything.   I was blessed to be a part of a young women’s bible study each week, and many of us were in the infant stage of our spiritual lives.  It was so exciting to have found that God was real and personal.  I don’t remember many conversations among us, whether we were at church or in our homes, that didn’t center around what God was doing in our lives.  We spent several years together as friends, growing and developing in our faith.  It was a wonderful time.

I was a seamstress in the area and made many a beautiful garment for clients that called on me.  The little income this produced went to the necessities of a family with small children and keeping the electricity on, so there were rarely opportunities to shop, even for fabric for myself.  I had worn-out jeans and shirts that were suitable enough for life at home in the country, and a few nice pieces for church, but I wanted some nicer things.  So one day I simply asked God  for new clothes.

The very next day a woman from our church knocked on my door.  I have no idea what income bracket she was in, but in my eyes she was wealthy.  She lived in a beautiful, spacious home, drove a nice, new vehicle, and was always perfectly outfitted.  We were only slightly acquainted with each other, but she had always seemed very kind to me.  She was hesitant as she began to speak… “I don’t know if you’re interested or not, but I just cleaned out my closets and have two bags of clothes. Would you like to have them?”  Would I!!  She drug the two large, black garbage bags to my door, as they were both heavily stuffed with clothing. It was like Christmas!!  Not only were the bags filled with beautiful garments, many of them were designer label items – things I would never have ever been able to purchase for myself.  My heart overflowed with the love of my Father for me, to care so much that He would send me new clothes, just because I asked.

Just a few short months from that event, we began the process of building a house on a very tight budget.  There was no wiggle room for mistakes.  As I was the one selecting the colors for our new home, I was given the task of purchasing the paint.  I had my heart set on a kitchen with almond cabinets, almond appliances, and peach walls.  Not orange.  Not pink.  Peach.   (Don’t judge… it was the 80’s…)  Once the color was chosen and the paint mixed, I could hardly wait!  I was alone in the house when I began painting, and it wasn’t long before I realized this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.  Knowing that there were no dollars available for more paint, I kept telling myself that perhaps it wasn’t as bad as it looked.  It was still wet.  Surely tomorrow when I returned to find it completely dry, it would be all right.  I was trying very hard to convince myself that my new kitchen really wasn’t pink when my brother walked in and said “Oh my gosh!  A pink kitchen?!?”

My heart sank.  I put away the paint, and began the walk back to our existing home, trying not to cry.  So I asked God, “What can I do?  I really don’t want a pink kitchen, God.”  And just as clearly I heard Him say “add yellow”.  I stopped in my tracks.  Yes!!  Yellow is what it needs!  I gathered my paint cans and took them back to the store.  After the clerk repeatedly telling me the store could not take the paint back, and me repeatedly telling him that’s not what I wanted, he finally agreed to add some yellow paint to my pink.  It was perfect.  My kitchen turned out exactly as I had envisioned it.   Many a day did just the color of my walls evoke praise to my Father, Who cared so much about me that He would fix my paint.

I’m not sure when I began saving only the “important” things to pray over, no longer talking to God about the small things in my everyday life.  As life brought changes, I moved away from the area, a good many miles from friends and family.  Trying to find a church and new friends proved difficult as nothing could compare to what I had left behind.   I felt I was the coal taken out of the fire, once removed from the blaze, I began to cool, and had finally become cold.  I still believed in God, still knew I was saved, but the passion, the intensity of experiencing the presence of God seemed to have left me.  Trouble came and my faith was weak when it was time to make difficult choices.  Somewhere in all the turmoil I lost confidence in prayers ever being answered.  I forgot Who my Father was.

I love that the bible never calls us His adults.  It always refers to us as His children.  We still get to be His children throughout all eternity.  I began reminding myself of this truth last year, determined to allow Him access into every aspect of my life, the important and the seemingly insignificant. As I’ve been meditating on His goodness as the perfect Father, He reminded me that He still wants to answer simple prayers.  He wants me to rely on Him for everything, talk to Him about everything.  He is never bored with me or too busy to listen.

“Ask, and it will be given you, seek and you will find, knock and it will be opened to you….if you then, evil as you are, know how to give good and advantageous gifts to your children, how much more will your Father Who is in heaven give good and advantageous things to those who keep on asking Him!”  Matthew 7:7, 11 

I don’t have all the answers yet for prayers offered up.  But He and I are talking about everything again, and I remember Who my Father is.