What Makes A Woman Cry in the Hardware Store
Normally, a trip to the hardware store isn’t my idea of a hot date.
But on a sunny spring day nearly a decade ago, I readily accepted my husband’s invitation to accompany him to Menards.
We weren’t there just to choose more shelving for the garage or to secure a new set of wrenches, on that particular day we were on a mission to buy our children a swing set.
With the long days of summer approaching and an empty backyard looming, I was near giddy at the sight of those tall wooden play structures.
My meticulous husband had spent hours researching all the options. He’d investigated the safety of each set, the amount of work it would take to assemble the pieces, and the practicality of the price tag attached.
Finally, we decided upon a middle-of-the-line play set that seemed to fit our backyard and still far surpass our children’s needs.It was a gorgeous redwood set with a cozy fort, two swings, a rocket glider, monkey bars, and a sandbox fit for six, a far cry from the tiny swings that had previously dangled from the rusty old structure in our backyard.
As Rob talked with the store worker, I imagined the kids’ shrieks of joy as they swung from every rope and bar on the unexpected gift. And I smiled at the thought of those castles that would take up residence in the soft sand beneath the slide.
Eventually, the store worker headed to the warehouse to place our order, and my husband ran across the store to find some grass seed.
I passed on the trek to the lawn section and told my man I’d meet him at the check-out counter in fifteen minutes.
I took one last glance at the play set display, and then meandered toward the front of the store.
I was weaving through an aisle filled with man-tools when the oddest thing happened. My eyes started to burn and my vision was suddenly blurred by tears.
I leaned against a tall shelf stocked with drills and unexpectedly dripped all over the dusty floor.
When he didn’t find me at the check-out counter as promised, my husband criss-crossed the store and discovered me weak-kneed and red-eyed near the drills.
As soon as my mate spotted the mess-of-me, he hurried to my side, his own green orbs laden with concern.
Once he realized I wasn’t hurt (No, I hadn’t decided to test out the electric saw on my own), he tried to figure out why I was crying.
If I hadn’t looked like such a wreck, he may have found the whole scenario a bit romantic. After all, doesn’t every man dream of having a wife who is moved to tears by power tools?
Unable to explicate my odd outburst, I asked Rob for the keys and headed to van.
Later, as we drove home with stacks of swing-set lumber piled high in the trunk, I tried to explain what had happened in the power tool aisle…I’d been making my way to the register when all of a sudden a string of desolate images rolled through my head like a story unraveling from an old-fashioned movie-reel.
I’d seen shoeless children rolling old tires down a dilapidated street, wide-eyed toddlers digging with bare sticks in the dirt, and lanky-limbed school-agers climbing faulty barbed wire fences meant to keep predators out of their barren playgrounds.
As that startling scene faded, I’d seen in my mind’s eye the manicured backyard where our new swing set would sit.
Suddenly, right there in the middle of Menards, I’d been overwhelmed by my own children’s abundance; awed by their undeserved privilege of living in a neighborhood with lush green grass and cheery safe homes and flower-lined sidewalks.
And I’d stood wonderstruck in the tool aisle as I thanked God for His lavish gifts.
That may have been the first time I wept with gratitude in an unusual place.
But it hasn’t been the last.
That’s just what happens when we open our eyes to His extraordinary grace.
Women once prone to grumbles leak gratitude. Blind eyes open wide.
And hardware stores became holy ground.
The man who forgets to be thankful has fallen asleep in life.
–Robert Louis Stevenson
Linking up with Emily at Imperfect Prose once again today.
Linking up with Emily at Imperfect Prose once again today.
Wow! What an incredible peek into the way some children live in other countries. And right in the hardware store. 🙂
“And hardware stores become holy ground…” -lovely, poignant.
Oh, Alicia, thanks for stopping by my post “Hypocrisy and French Onion Soup.” I have people I am praying fiercely, lovingly for too. May Jesus shine despite us, through us.
Thanks for stopping by here.
Jennifer Dougan
http://www.jenniferdougan.com
oh. oh. this. this is the heart of Christ.
oh, i thought i’d cried just about everywhere . . . but i don’t know if it has ever happened in a hardware store. you take the cake for that one! 😉
love that quote at the end. how beautiful is a heart overwhelmed by thankful.
This is beautiful!
thank you so much for commenting on my post from IP. I was wondering why you would be crying in the hardware store and it is wonderful how you took this to a place of us understanding what was on your heart. May the Lord continue to work on your pliable heart. May you be given wisdom how to best use your knowledge of what is going on with kids and people worldwide to change the world that you live in.
What a beautiful heart you have, Alicia. We are so very blessed.
Alicia, what a powerful story of your gratitude. This is beautiful, friend. Thank you.
Oh it is a struggle inside of me – the wanting to be so grateful to God for all that I have but it is so hard because so many don’t “have” and so often my gratefulness tends to center around stuff and it seems like that isn’t right and yet I don’t want to be ungrateful…and I am so thankful for hot water and a soft bed…
Yes! His lavish, extravagant, generosity is so amazing and when we realize it…your response is so appropriate~no matter where.
Keep up the God work