What's in Store?

          As she shuffled through the pile of bills, separating them according to amount and due date, the woman sighed heavily. In the distance, the monotonous drone of a listless vacuum in the corridor seemed to mock the monotony of her life.

          For the last fifteen years, the woman had stood behind the scratched glass counter, sorting the same bills into the same piles. Beneath the counter, the carpet on which she stood was worn smooth; a valley of foot traffic attested to the fact that the pathway had been well-used, not just by her, but she had used it plenty since she was the only one here most days.

          As she glanced up from the counter, the woman scanned her surroundings; the display cases were hazy and packed with time pieces, fobs, watches, and clocks, several of which had not been handled other than during an annual dusting. Repair items, both recent and forgotten, lined the tops of the cases, their tags drooping and yellowed. Like her, they awaited someone to pick them up and carry them away from this place.

            “Really, Lord?” she began. “Is this really where you want me?” Again, she sighed and continued to rearrange the mail and bills into piles.

          Each day, all day long, she and God conversed. Ok, it was mostly her doing the talking but still. Since there were few customers and many hours on her own, talking to God helped to provide conversation, even if it largely took place in her head.

          Just as she was about to ask God, for the seemingly fiftieth time, why she was still at this store, a familiar face darkened the doorway. It was Henry.

          Henry was an old bachelor who lived in an apartment above the store. Once upon a time, Henry had owned a fairly prosperous retail business nearby, but as the big box stores had moved in, the hometown specialty shops had closed. Likewise, since Henry had never married, he had no progeny to continue his life's work. Thus, his store had closed. Each day, the woman had to pass the empty and unused space in the corridor on her way to the store. The mere sight of it brought an inexplicable sadness to the woman; she didn't want to imagine what it was like for Henry to walk by it each day.

          As he shuffled past the glass cases, the woman noticed that he hadn't even changed out of his slippers. More than likely, this wasn't on purpose; he just hadn't thought about it. Henry's descent to the store was a regular routine, much like a mid-morning coffee break. A moth-eaten sweater and a dirty seed corn cap underscored the fact that he lived alone. Appearance, style, and smell were the concerns of a woman. Henry's clothing choices were utilitarian; if it felt good and was broken in, he wore it.

          The woman could see that he hadn't shaved in a while; patches of white whiskers in varying lengths sprouted across his face. Silently, she wondered when his last decent meal was.

          A worn cloth chair, long ago installed for lingering customers, was Henry's destination. Cracking joints protested as he lowered himself into the chair. The woman waited to see if this was a "talking" day.

          Henry, a man of few words, was often content to sit companionably in silence while the woman worked. At first, the woman was unnerved by the awkwardness of it all, and then, as she was later ashamed to admit, she became annoyed by his constant presence.

          Over time she mulled the situation over and shared her concerns with God. Eventually, it became evident that Henry's loneliness was due to the fact that he was quite shy, which probably explained why he had never married. While he seemed to be comfortable around her, most of the women who came into the store made him uneasy. In fact, in the time that she had known him, she had never seen or heard him talk to another woman other than her.

          Once she had a new perspective, the woman found herself looking for Henry on a daily basis. Although it would be hard to explain to anyone, she always felt a little relief when she heard the familiar creak of the floorboards in the apartment above. While their conversations were often brief and even monosyllabic, there was a companionship that satisfied both of them. 

          On this particular day, no words passed between them. The woman rounded the corner to the back of the store where the coffee maker was. Grabbing a mug from the haphazard collection on the shelf, she filled it and placed the steaming cup in front of Henry. The woman turned to her bills as Henry busied himself with the coffee.  After a few minutes, Henry’s snores filled room.

          The woman shook her head and lowered herself into the chair behind the counter. “Lord, I just don’t understand. I have been here for fifteen years, and it feels like I’m not getting anywhere. Over and over, I have asked you to show me what you want me to do. Please show me the purpose for my life, Lord.”

            “Well, did you see what your man did in St. Paul today?!” The voice startled the woman, but she knew the voice well. As she glanced into the mirror over her desk, she watched as Maggie strode purposefully toward the counter. “Well, did you?”

            “No, but I’ll bet you will tell me,” said the woman as she pushed herself from the chair.

            “He voted down the omnibus bill that we had been working on,” Maggie stormed. “That bill would have provided funding for additional family planning services.”

            “And did those ‘additional family planning services’ include abortion counseling?” the woman quietly asked.

          Henry, who had been forcefully roused from his mid-morning nap by Maggie’s voice, eyed her warily. Then, he pushed himself out of the chair and shuffled toward the door.

          Maggie rolled her eyes and said none-too-quietly, “I see I riled your ‘boyfriend,’ but yes, abortion services could have been one of many services offered to teenagers and lower-income women. However, your candidate decided to take that opportunity away.”

            “He’s not my candidate. . .” the woman began, but before she could finish, Maggie interrupted her.

            “I don’t get you,” Maggie said as she leveled her gaze to the woman’s. “You claim you’re a Christian, and so does your candidate, but you guys sure have a funny way of showing your religion. “

          The woman paused. She wasn’t taking the bait, so Maggie continued. “You say Christianity is all about ‘showing God’s love,’ but when a something, like this bill, comes along – that would actually help people – you say, ‘no,’ all because abortion is one small part of it. Sorry, but I don’t see the logic in that.”

          While Maggie waited for a response, the woman took a deep breath and prayed to herself. "Lord, Maggie is looking for a fight today. Show me what want me to do and say next. If this is something you want me to respond to, give me the words. I cannot do this on my own."

          For the next half hour, Maggie volleyed question after question while the woman calmly provided the Biblical viewpoint. Although she was apprehensive at first, the woman relaxed as the words flowed easily and sensibly. Never a fan of conflict, the woman often avoided any conversations or situations that might become heated or uncomfortable. Meeting Maggie had necessitated a new game plan.

Maggie worked in a political office down the hall from the store. While on a lunch break one day, Maggie had wandered into the store and had struck up a conversation with the woman. Partially out of necessity (since they were the only two females in proximity) and partially by choice, a burgeoning friendship formed. Now, Maggie regularly shared her breaks with the woman.

The only point of contention between the two was their differing religious views. For the woman, her faith was the core of her being. For Maggie, faith was the same as religion, so she, therefore, had no time for either.  As a child, Maggie’s religious experience had involved lots of do’s and don’ts with the ever-present threat of “hell” for disobedience. Adultery and an acrimonious divorce had been the nail in the coffin of religion for her. Once married to a politician, she now worked for one, so Maggie was quite knowledgeable and passionate about current events and issues. Quite naturally, many of these issues infiltrated the women’s conversations, and Maggie enjoyed sparring with the woman, whose views were often far more conservative than hers. While the woman enjoyed Maggie’s company and considered her a friend, she did not enjoy debating with her.

Shortly after meeting Maggie, however, the woman had promised God that she wouldn’t run whenever she became uncomfortable. Although Maggie and their conversations would assuredly push the woman out of her comfort zone, she confidently believed that God would be her co-pilot in conversation, and thus far, He had been faithful.

For the remaining minutes of Maggie’s break, the two discussed their kids. Maggie showed pictures of her daughter’s new apartment and dog while the woman provided updates regarding her son’s new job. As Maggie rounded the corner and waved, the woman sank into the chair. The conversation had left her exhausted but content.  The woman closed her eyes for a few minutes, dissecting and analyzing the conversation. “Lord, I hope I did ok. I hope I said exactly what you wanted me to say and represented you in a positive light. You know how much I hate conflict. I am just not a good speaker, so I am the worst choice when it comes to debating with her. I don’t know why you brought Maggie into my life. . .” The woman smiled to herself, “but I am thankful for her and her friendship. I hope that we will be hanging out together in heaven one day.”

“Excuse me,” came a tiny voice behind the woman. “I am sorry to interrupt you. If this is a bad time, I can leave.”

The woman rose quickly, embarrassed. She was the lone clerk in the store, and here she had been remiss in her one duty, which was to help customers.  “No, no. I’m sorry, but I didn’t see you come in. What can I do for you?”

“I may need a new clock, but I am wondering if you do repairs?” the young woman whispered.

“Yes, we do repairs, and we sell clocks,” the woman answered. “Is there something you would like to me look at?” As the woman asked, she noticed that the young woman, a girl, really, immediately looked away.

The young woman carefully lowered a battered brown grocery bag onto the counter. The contents rattled as the bag settled. Slowly and carefully, the young woman laid the various, broken components of an antique mantel clock on the counter. 

As the woman surveyed the damage before her, her heart sank. The clock appeared beyond repair. It would take nothing short of a miracle to re-construct the clock, much less get it to run. Either way, it would never look or function the way it once had.

“Can you tell me what happened?” the woman asked as she started picking up and examining the clock pieces.

“No,” the young woman’s response was barely audible.

The woman paused and stared at the young woman, trying to read her face. Had she offended this young girl?  It was a routine question for all repairs. In order to try to fix the problem, the woman would need to know what she was dealing with. “Lord, I’m not sure what’s going on here, “the woman prayed silently. “I get the sense that there is more than meets the eye with this young woman. If there is something I need to know, please reveal it to me. Likewise, if there is something I need to say or do, please give me some clear direction.”

Apparently, the pause was the encouragement that the young woman needed. “You see,” the young woman began then paused. She sighed heavily and then tears began coursing down her cheeks. “Um, this clock was my grandma’s, and I broke it.”

The woman didn’t say a word. She looked down and picked up another broken piece off the counter, gingerly turning it over in her hands. She sensed a dam was about to burst and braced for it.

“We – me and Justin; I’m Alicia, by the way. We have been married for a little over a year. My mom and dad threw me out when I got pregnant. They didn’t like Justin, and they were mad because I got pregnant and embarrassed them. So Justin and me got married, but then, I lost the baby. Anyway, my grandma was the only one who talked called me after I lost the baby. She gave me this clock because she remembered how much I used to love to help her wind it every night when I stayed at her house.”

The young woman – Alicia – paused to collect herself, wiping the tears from her cheek with the back of her left hand. The woman noticed that there was no wedding ring on her left hand, only a faint indentation where one used to be.

“Anyway,” Alicia continued, “Grandma died about six months ago.” Fresh tears fell and hit a piece of clock face on the counter. “I couldn’t go to the funeral because I had to work and couldn’t get it off. It wouldn’t have mattered anyways because my mom and dad had told my brother to tell me to stay away, or they would call the cops.”

The woman handed Alicia a tissue, which Alicia readily accepted.

“About a month ago,” Alicia went on, “I came home after work to find Justin packing up his stuff. Another girl was there with him. He said he wanted a divorce – that he wanted to marry Jenna or Jenny, whatever her name was.”

Alicia paused; her voice was barely a whisper now. “I threw my ring at him because I was mad. . .but I missed. It hit the clock, and it fell to the floor.” Alicia ran her finger over a piece of curved molding. “He could have caught it, but he let it fall. Then, he looked right at me and stomped on it. He knew what it meant to me, but he smashed it anyway. Now, I have nothing.” As she finished, Alicia’s chest heaved, and gulps and sobs filled silence in the store.

As the woman raised her eyes to meet Alicia’s before her, she was surprised to feel tears running down her cheeks as well. Although she did not know Alicia and had never met her before, she was overwhelmed with Alicia’s grief, emptiness, and sadness. Without hesitation, she reached across the counter, pulled Alicia into her arms, and held her until Alicia’s composure had returned.

For the next half hour, Alicia talked while the woman listened. Alicia apologized for falling apart and thanked the woman for her kindness and listening ear. Embarrassed, the woman lowered her eyes and noticed the clock detritus on her counter. The woman began, "I'm not sure if this clock can be fixed, but we will see what we can do."

"I appreciate it," Alicia said, a half smile tugging at her cheek. "The world won't end if it can't be repaired. A new clock for my new place might be just what I need anyway."

The woman took Alicia's number and said she would call when she had news about the clock. As Alicia stopped, smiled, and gave a shy wave, the woman decided that she might just call Alicia in a week, just to see how things were going.

Slowly, the woman moved from behind the counter and began locking doors and cases; the day was finally done. As the sun began to set, so did the woman's spirit. As she moved from case to case, she discussed her heart with God. "Lord, day after day, I come to this store, and I wait patiently for you. I have told you the desires of my heart - that more than anything, I want to do your Will. I'm not sure what gifts and talents I have that you can use, but whatever they are, Lord, I have told them they are yours. When will you bring me to a place - a career - that will allow me to do that?"

The woman paused, waited. The only sound she heard was the buzzing of the fluorescent lights. She sighed as she flicked them off and turned the "Open" sign to "Closed."

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Matthew 7:7 "Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.

"We look for visions from heaven, for earthquakes and thunders of God's power, and we never dream that all the time God is in the commonplace things and people around us. If we will only do the duty that lies nearest, we shall see Him. One of the most amazing revelations of God comes when we learn that it is in the commonplace things that the Deity of Jesus Christ is realized." Oswald Chambers - from My Utmost for His Highest.