In the midst of rough financial times, there is always that little something we want, but don't necessarily need . . . a little treat, a reward for surviving the struggle.
The following article comes from the Guideposts newsletter, which always provides me with a wealth of inspiration along with renewed faith and hope, like a reminder that God never gives us more than we can handle . . . and even the lesson of patience.
I couldn’t afford to buy a little gift for myself.
But I could dream, couldn't I?
By Vickie Apicella, Port Orange, Florida
I stared longingly at the pair of brown clogs on the department store display rack. They seemed to be calling out my name. I tried to remind myself that I was only here today to buy my mother a special birthday gift. I couldn’t afford anything more. But now, these seemingly perfect brown flats were breaking down my resolve.
I guess you could say I’m a bit of a shop-a-holic, but I hadn’t been able to shop much lately. I’m a teacher, and in this economy, I hadn’t found a summer job. Over the past few months, my already meager savings had dwindled. It was only thanks to my generous parents that I could pay my bills.
Now, with a few weeks of paychecks in the bank and Mom’s birthday coming up, I wanted to show my mom how much I appreciated her help. I’d found a beautiful black sweater that I knew Mom would love and was all set to leave. Then the brown clogs caught my eye. They had a woven pattern on top and I already could picture all the outfits they’d go with.
I had to have them. I tucked the shoes under my arm and made my way towards the cash register. But a guilty feeling washed over me. “God,” I prayed, “I don’t really need these shoes, and I can’t afford to spend the extra money. I can make do with all you have given me.” Sadly, I returned the shoes to their place on the rack, paid for my mother’s present and left.
The next day, I stopped by my friend Terri’s house after work. Just before I was about to say goodbye, Terri stopped me. “I almost forgot,” she said. “I’ve got a box of old stuff I was going to give to a consignment shop, but if there’s anything you’re interested in, you’re more than welcome to help yourself.”
After yesterday’s shopping, I was in no mood to go looking through old clothes. Some consolation prize they would be, I thought. But I took a peek.
There, on top of the pile, was a pair of brand new looking brown clogs, with a woven pattern on top, just like the ones I’d turned down. “They’re too small on me,” Terri said.
I tried them on. Wouldn’t you know it? A perfect fit.
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