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. . . touching, real, and brutally honest. This book is not for people looking only for the "sunny-side" of life, but for those searching for meaning regardless of the emotional challenges that present themselves.— Ph.D, Psychologist and Counselor
Our bed was a perfect fit for my husband and me, until the added pillows became a necessity, and the dog moved in for the night.
The pains in my hip and legs as a result of post-polio syndrome were relieved with the addition of a pillow under my knees and/or between them as I slept. Once this solace had been found, I wasn't about to abandon it.
We had already been sharing our bed with our cat, Leah. She would stay put at the bottom of the bed for the entire night. But when the cat died, there was the dog, waiting in the wings to take over the bed-sleeping rights.
Now the dog was another story. Hildegard Gardenia Dolislager is an eight-pound, longhair, miniature dachshund. Add to that the fact that my husband Ron hadn't been allowed to have his dog sleep with him as he was growing up. (One night when I was out of town he actually spent the night on the couch in the family room to see what it would be like to slumber next to Hildy!)
So there we were, fulfilling a childhood wish of a 50-year old man. But how much room can an eight-pound dog take? More than you'd ever guess. Wherever she chose to deposit her weight, the sheet would not budge. If I rolled over, the sheet stayed with the mutt. If I wanted to pull up the blanket, the dog had to be lifted up and once again deposited in her place. We even tried putting the dog under the sheet! Rolling over and having a tail in my face in the middle of the night was my final clue that something had to give.
I was unwilling to part with my pillows. By then, Ron was also unwilling to part with his dog. It was at this point in time that the idea of a king-size bed started to make its presence known.
A silk tree. More than once I had spotted a decorator's "black hole" in my home, and I just knew in my heart that a silk tree would be the perfect solution. In fact, there were at least two available niches. The living room had a bare corner behind the lamp table, and I thought a silk tree would cozy up that corner lending its silk elegance to the entire ambiance!
Also, the family room had at least a 5-foot span of bare wall to the left of the sliding-glass door. A silk tree would warm up the spot and serve as a backdrop to the reclining lounge. To be perfectly honest, I had shopped for a silk tree. However, I never found one within my budget that I liked well enough to bring home.
And a fry pan. There's a rule in my house that when there's enough Teflon scraped off the bottom, I'm allowed to get a new fry pan. This is a big event, because it signals that I've been doing some "cooking." The microwave is actually my tool of choice. (I've asked for a second one, but thinking that the embarrassment factor might outweigh the usefulness factor, I've quit asking.)
Now, I would have had this fry pan thing over and done with, but I hadn't been able to find the right size. You see, when it's your "main pan," not only does it have to be at least 10 inches in diameter, but two or three inches deep. And it has to have a cover. Why they sell fry pans without covers, I haven't a clue.
I knew I couldn't afford a king-sized bed. I had to trust God for that. I possibly could afford a silk tree, but it would be a stretch. For sure I could afford a fry pan, but I hadn't been able to turn up the precise one.
"O.K. God, O.K. Larry Burkett, You're on." I prayed. I didn't pace. I didn't become anxious. I didn't window shop. I didn't even tell my husband. I did, however, remind God once a week.
One night, about three months later, I received a phone call from a friend who had been trying to sell her mother's condo in our area of Florida. Carol happily reported that the sale had been completed.
She then went on to ask if South America Mission, where Ron is the Finance Director, would be interested in the contents of the condo. What timing! I was thrilled to be able to tell her that the mission was in the process of redoing their three guest cottages, and this would be an answer to prayer for them.
But wait, there was more! Carol then said that Ron and I could personally have first choice of the contents. If there was anything we could use, we were to take it.
Oh, no. Oh, yes! Excitement. Hesitation.
Quietly I asked, "Is there a king-size bed?"
"Yes," came the reply.
With a little more energy I asked, "Is there a silk tree."
Now this last one was going to sound a little crazy, I thought to myself. "Is there a fry pan?"
"Yes," in fact, a whole set of Club aluminum pots and pans that were new the Christmas before Carol's mother passed away.