God must have taken me seriously with this whole thing. He had to have with what happened next. Now, let me preface this by saying that I don’t pray about whether I should wear the three-quarter-length red shirt or the v-neck black one and I don’t face a spiritual crossroads when I debate oatmeal against waffles for breakfast – who knows, maybe I should. That said I am certain that God took me seriously in all of this when, within the first week of this little experiment, I lost my wallet!
The craziest part is that, only days before, I handed over hundreds of dollars’ worth of credit and gift cards to my husband. I borderline panicked when he threatened to cut them all up and trash them.
“That’s like real money,” I said. “You can’t throw away money.”
He countered, “Do you not see that throwing it away is exactly what you will do?”
He walked away from the dining room table and I had to sit with my rage at the idea that he may or may not be throwing away this money, some of which I had worked very hard for –it’s not like Buffalo Exchange takes just anything! How many hours had I waited in that selling line? And how many baby gifts from Target had I returned in order to build up a hefty credit? Of course, even when I accumulated half the cost of a Little Cottage nursing chair, Spence was still not convinced that a chair needed to be designed specifically for breastfeeding in order to get the job done. Needless to say, I’m nursing just fine in a chair we already had. But still, those were hundreds of dollars in his hands. And you don’t just throw away money!
I’m sure he thought there was some big lesson in mysteriously retreating with all the dough. On the other hand, since he’d asked me not to spend any money in September, I shrugged the whole thing and decided to let God rearrange my icky heart in the meantime.
And rearrange he did!
Somehow the weekend came and I didn’t feel wanty like I usually do. Even powering through two birthday parties didn’t stir my desires.
And then my wallet came up missing.
At first, I thought someone stole it. And I was angry! What were they charging? Hurry and cancel. Cancel it. Now.
I was mildly relieved that not a dime jingled inside that cute little leather Hobo clutch, save for my credit and debit card, but I was annoyed about the item itself (it’s appeal factor was so high that three of my friends asked if I minded if they got the exact same one) and the pain of ordering a new driver’s license. That Hobo and I had wrangled some serious bargains; it was like a friend. Would I ask for another one for Christmas? Would it be the same? But by the time I got home, somehow I didn’t really care. Spencer had canceled the cards and I remembered that I had another wallet (also cute, but in that 2008 kind of way) up in my closet somewhere. I would be okay!
Don’t get me wrong, Spence and I weren’t exactly thrilled about the whole thing, but it wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened. And once our eyes met, we didn’t need to say a word. We knew that was some kind of test or lesson, so we went with it.
That night we had friends over, cooked on the grill and ate on the back patio while our kids enjoyed the first cool grass of fall.
The wife of my husband’s former college roommate sat across from me. She cocked her eyebrow and gawked, “He wasn’t mad at you for losing it?”
And that was it. He wasn’t mad and I wasn’t upset. We just moved on.
And the next day was Sunday and we piled into the car for church. Spence noticed something in between the seat and the door. He picked it up and handed me my old friend.
I tossed the thin, light leather clutch into my diaper bag. I was relieved and renewed. The Hobo and I are starting fresh.