Mindful Mondays ~ Retail Therapy

Image via Wikipedia

I love my children.

I do.

But some days, by the time Brian gets home, I need to get out. And by out, I mean out of the house, by myself.

Brian learned this long ago, when Emma was still a baby. Sometimes the best thing he can say to me is “Go”.

So a few weeks ago, he said “Go” and “Go” I went (Marvin K. Mooney anyone?).

It was already after 8PM so I made two necessary stops for groceries and then decided to hit Kohl’s for a little retail therapy before they closed.

Now, admittedly, this was a dangerous move. I’ve just had my third child and I wasn’t skinny to begin with. Who knew what size I’d have to buy? But sometimes, a new outfit can put a spring in my step and I decided to risk it.

I meandered through the limited petite section—I’m not skinny but I am short—and picked up a few shirts and a couple of capris that looked promising.

Just as I started for the fitting rooms, my phone rang.

When I answered, I didn’t need to ask why Brian was calling.

I could hear Drew.

Brian’s no wimp and he’s more than capable of taking care of our children. I knew he wouldn’t have called unless Drew was inconsolable.

But I was still ticked.

All I wanted was an hour to myself. Maybe a new outfit. Instead, I stopped where I was, put the clothes on the nearest rack, race-walked out of the store and sped home.

By the time I walked in the door, Drew was asleep.

I felt cheated.

The next morning, after getting up three times during the night to feed Drew, sending Emma off on the bus and dropping James at preschool, I decided to try again. Maybe, since I’d already looked the night before, I could find the clothes quickly, try them on, and get out of there before Drew needed to eat again.

I pushed the stroller to the Petite department and as I turned the corner, I couldn’t believe my eyes. All the clothes I had picked out the night before were still together, hanging right where I had left them.

Now, you might think it was a coincidence. But you didn’t hear the little voice that whispered “I know, honey” as I stared at my selections, waiting on me to come back for them.

Sometimes, motherhood means sacrifice. Big things and small things. And it’s easy to think no one notices or cares.

But God is always paying attention.

I thought I’d been robbed of my “me” time. But God used it to remind me that He’s always watching. He always sees.

It was His version of retail therapy.

And then—and really, I think He was showing off with this one—the clothes fit.

I bought them all.