Last fall my daughter Emily got married. She’s my youngest of my three girls and moved the furthest away. She now lives with her husband Chaz in Twentyninepalms, California as he is a marine and stationed in this beautiful dessert; a tiny culture shock for my girl to experience being across the country from her family. Dan, her sisters and me travelled to California for the very first time to see them married in Twentyninepalms, so we were not able to celebrate with extended family and friends. Thus, we are planning a wedding shower for them this month where family and friends can give them their blessing and help fill their home with the essentials they will need.
In preparation of these festivities, I am purging and cleaning. Three weeks ago I donated a couch. I am not sure what I was thinking. It didn’t occur to me I may need the extra seating since I have my parents, Emily and Chaz, Chaz’s parents, and our favorite friend, (and previous German exchange student), Ellen coming to stay for a week. This exciting time will be filled with movie watching, shopping, beach going, dining and heartfelt future planning over cups of coffee at the kitchen table. I’m majorly excited about this happy time.
But what about the couch?
Dan and I have moved rooms around, purged filing cabinets, cleaned window sills, bleached the front porch, had the azaleas cut back and yet I still had not addressed the seating issue.
Wednesday was the day. I was going about my usual routine and felt the stress rising. Finally, about 2 p.m. I said a hasty prayer: God, I need a couch. Please let something good come out of today’s mess.
I went home and found a Facebook posting by a friend: Does anyone need a couch?
I typed in haste: Yes! I need one desperately.
I then received a phone call almost immediately and found out he was giving it away for free; it’s in good condition…and it’s on the back of a truck in front of my church.
Thursday morning a friend walks into my house and asks me, “Oh, you got a new couch? Where did you get it?”
I smiled and answered, “God gave it to me.”
Some say he works in mysterious ways. I just believe He hears me when I pray, even in haste.
This article originally appeared on Santa Rosa Press Gazette: Hasty prayers