The floor....I don't know any more about it today. I tried calling Gary, dear husband of my dear friend, to go take a look, but they are gone for the weekend. I'll try again tomorrow. If I can't reach Gary, I have other folks I'll call. I'm very blessed with menfolk in my life who step up when I need them and keep panic at bay.
Floors have a symbolic place in the narrative of my life. If you asked my children if their parents ever fought, they'd say, "Only about floors". I can remember three different times (no, four) when a pretty floor was my highest priority and my lust for floor perfection ended in conflict and frustration. What's with that anyway???
Yesterday I was talking on the phone with someone who might want to rent part of my house while I'm in Alaska. It sounded like a good deal until she said she had a dog. Ewwww....I told her that might be a deal breaker because I had really nice wood floors and wouldn't want anything to mar them. I felt the floor lust rising inside me as we spoke. Greg and I had those floors laid with the money I inherited from my Uncle Harry. They were a tribute to his generosity and satisfied me like no other floor ever has. This floor and I have been really good together.
Just a couple of hours later came the infamous call that my treasure was wet and buckling. It hit me like a baseboard. I told you I cried and cried. But I also prayed and prayed and asked God for some perspective and peace.
Now it seems as clear as a good polyurethane: God is teaching me something here. "Let go of the STUFF. Still connected to that floor (and your other little treasures)? LET THEM GO!!!!!!"
If this Alaska missionary thing is going to work out, I've GOT to learn to trust God WITH EVERYTHING and shake off the old life of material STUFF. This is going to be hard for me. I guess I'm starting on the ground "floor" ( :