Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Recently, I discovered an antique chair with beautiful carving at a flea market. I loved the chair. I really wanted the chair. I told one of the employees that if I could get the chair in my car, I would buy it. She and I set out to put the chair in the backseat of my very small car. We studied the situation for a few minutes and then tried to squeeze it through the back door. No matter how hard we tried to manipulate the chair, it wouldn’t fit through the door opening.
Along came a very nice man who offered to deliver it to my door. I thanked him and said I didn’t live in the city, but lived thirty-plus miles away. He asked if I minded if he tried to get the chair in the car for me. I had a gut feeling I should say no. But, I didn’t say no, because I well… think everything is possible. It’s not though—everything isn’t possible. Or if it is possible there may be consequences.
I really wanted the chair.
The man succeeded in wiggling that chair into my car. After laying the front seat down, moving the other seat forward, and flipping the chair over the console the nice man delivered it to the backseat.
Red flags flew proud and free during those moments, and yet, I didn’t honor them. Instead, I thanked the nice man for spending 45 minutes on the task, paid for the chair, and went home.
Immediately upon arriving at home, I tried to get the chair out of the backseat. I knew right away it was bigger than the door of my car, but if that darn chair went in, it would surely come out. Right? I am a stubborn girl and tried for the next 24 hours to free it from its captivity.
That night it didn’t come out of the car.
The next morning it wasn’t coming out of the car.
My next thought was if a man’s brain put the chair into the car maybe another man’s logic could pull it back out. I called a friend who would get off work at 1pm. He said he would come by and help.
He forgot and left town.
All day long, I pushed and pulled, flipped and slid the chair all over the inside of my car. Then it happened. By the end of the day, my efforts produced one chair severely wedged half in, half out--one of the back doors. And no closing that door. Then I remembered my son; I gave birth to him after all. I called my son and asked him to stop by on his way home from work. He studied it and worked on it and tried freeing it, but it was jammed.
When I do a job, I do it well.
I said things like, “Can you get it back on?” and “I care about my car, not the chair.” and “My saw is over there.” and “I’m taking it to the curb once we get it freed." (BTW, I don’t have a curb)
My son who loves cars and use to race said things like, “I take doors off all the time.” and “It will go back on.” and “do you have a (blah, blah) tool?” and “Now, let’s not cut the legs off.”
Of course he was the right person to call. He took off the door and I pulled out the chair—no problem. It now sits in my living room. I hated it for two weeks, three days, four hours, and 29 minutes.
What did I learn? I learned if I can’t put something in my car myself, then I probably won’t be able to take it out myself. I learned I need to listen to my gut feelings and use my common sense which NEVER fail me.
Do you know the warning signs of giving into "wants” over using wisdom?
• Not listening
• Not thinking
• Forgetting the past
• Thinking only in the moment
My choice didn’t ruin my life, but many decisions made with knee-jerk reactions can rearrange a life.
How do you make decisions? Ask another? Weigh your options? Go with your gut feeling? Or what?