Dumpster Green

I'm at camp. I have spent most of the summer here. I go home every few weeks to make sure things are in order and to check in with friends and family. But pretty soon, I come back to camp. Truth be told, I'd live here if I could. Surely it is my second home. I spend my time here much the same as I do at my home in Ohio. I always have a book to read, a story to write, a picture to paint, some project around the cottage, and of course thrift shopping.

If forgetfulness was a skill I'd have a PhD . Thank goodness Alexa can find my phone. I sure wish she could find my coffee. As a counter measure, I'm a list maker. I keep lists for just about everything.  I had such a list prepared for this current trip to camp. Books, journal, laptop and art supplies - all pretty standard items. This time I also needed materials for two painting projects in my cottage.  First was white paint to finish some trim. That was easy, since I had already bought the paint and it was stored in my basement. Second, was green paint to paint the bottom few inches of a chest I use as coffee table. Let me explain.

A few years ago, I traded a very attractive upholstered storage chest for this old beat up blue one. It looks old, smells old, and is the perfect accent piece  It sits in front of the blue couch on a blue and green rug. I decided I wanted to paint the bottom three inches of the chest green to break up all the blue. So green paint was on my list. Not dark green and not light green. Muted, but not soft. Strong but not bold. I could picture the perfect color even thought I didn't know what to call it. I got a step stool and searched through all the shelves of paint but there wasn't any green or even anything I could mix. That was disappointing , because I only needed a few ounces so I would not be paying to purchase a custom color. Hence, I supposed I would be taking that project off my list. I got so distracted looking for green paint that even though the paint brushes were right in front of me, I forgot them.  

I have another list. It's the one running through my brain when I wake up. Sometimes it just contains mundane items that need accomplished that day - these things feel urgent but are not really important. Then there are people, relationships and mission - these are the things that really matter to me. Finally, there is often a struggle or heartache on this mental list. These are weighty situations with no easy answers. All together it's a sort of mental static that needs handled before it can't be tuned out or silenced. I need to talk these things through with a good friend and I need guidance. Jesus is the friend that listens to me, directs me and has the power to make change and He tells me to come to Him.  So every morning, I make a cup of coffee, try not to misplace it, and me and Jesus take a walk and talk about all the things. At home, we walk around the flowers in my yard and at camp we walk around the grounds.

It's August and the mornings at camp are cool. Other campers are few and far between and I am enjoying the morning solitude as I walk and pray. Jesus and I are talking a lot right now about a hard situation. One that has no easy answers, and no immediate relief for the abysmal emotional pain I feel. I think about it day and night. It is always right in front of me. My pain is because I can't see through it or around it. But, I know better that to get distracted by my shortsighted view. The Truth of this situation is what God says about it and what He intends to do about it. He reminds me that from His vantage point, where the whole timeline can be seen, there is already provision, peace, and even purpose that is for the good of each person in the story. So, the tension eases when I pray, but then I forget and have to pray again…and again. He is so patient with me.

This Wednesday, after my walk I decided to paint the remaining trim in the cottage. I found one decent paint brush in my tool box. In preparation, I did the dishes, tidied up, and took the trash to the dumpster which sits 65 paces from my front door.  I opened the door to the dumpster and then…wait…what? I stood there completely befuddled, trying to figure out if what I was looking at could be real.  

First, there was a collection of paint brushes, nice ones, really nice ones - better than any I've ever had. Next there were  two reusable paint cups, both in great condition. And finally, wrapped in some clear plastic was a disposable cup of green paint. Not dark green and not light green. Muted, but not soft. Strong but not bold. The perfect green. The brushes cleaned up good as new and there was just enough green paint for the bottom of that chest.

If you know me, you know that stories like this are nothing new.  You also know that I'm going to tell you that this was all a gift from God who knows that my budget does not allow for fancy paint brushes and custom mixed green paint. And as excited as I am about that, the real story is that He moved time and people to have that stuff in the dumpster at just the right time for me to find it. A swish of His supernatural hand over my decorating wishes, which in the big scheme of things doesn't really matter. It's no coincidence that He did this at the same time that I am laboring in prayer every day over this other issue. Why not swish His supernatural hand over that? Couldn't He move the time and people in this distressful drama? Of course He could. But rather than force His hand, He is a patient and loving Father who takes His time transforming the hearts and motives of the people involved, and that includes me. I am grateful for that even though the waiting hurts. In the meantime He sends me a wink and a nod disguised as brushes and paint. He is so good, and a little funny.

I still don't know what color this green is. I'm going to call it "Dumpster Green". And hey, if you are the person who threw it away… any chance there is more where that came from? I'd like to paint my end tables to match.

Matthew 11:28

Romans 8:28