How Long?

Yesterday I went to the mall with Sophie to get a salad spinner to replace one that had crashed to the floor, shattering in plastic shards everywhere. We had gotten sidetracked and lost when finally Sophie, holding my hand said, “We have taken over 100 steps already.” Her sweet little freckled face expressed nothing but pure exasperation. “Yes,” I replied, “Unlike everyone else, I don’t know where I’m going.” I had forgotten that with all of the remodeling that had gone on tens years earlier, that where I needed to be was on the exact opposite end of where we were.

I had tried to careen and cruise around the lolly-gaggers that doddled everywhere, but still, we were hindered with the slow, lingering procession of people actually shopping, actually liking and enjoying the mall. There were people sitting asleep idly in chairs, their heads lying back, breathing heavily and fast asleep. Babies toddled through jovial crowds, big toothless smiles on chubby faces. Couples seemingly on dates smiled coyly at each other, slurping big iced drinks. Strings of girls, arm-in-arm, made impenetrable lines, as Sophie and I attempted to overtake them to make headway to our ultimate destination.

When I saw all the smiles, I thought that maybe I would put my inhibitions aside and try and actually enjoy our outing. At Sophie’s insistence, we visited Build-A-Bear and she coveted every furry thing, but mostly just the pink fluffy things. After much cajoling, I finally caved and bought her a small trinket, but pressed her to call it, “Sherbet” after she refused to call it, “Pretty Mommy Princess” or “Michelle Princess Queen.” The purchase satiated any further accounting of our expended steps and I knew, as every parent does who caves, for $5.00 I had bought priceless time.

Then, hoping to enjoy the moment, I carelessly careened into a shoe store, not even bothering to look at the name. Upon looking around, I realized that most of the shoes were not much to my liking and seemed designed for people primarily concerned with chunky, rubbery comfort, rather than style. Sophie blurted out, “These shoes are ugly!” “Not all of them,” I responded in protest, picking up a shoe from a shelf and examining its ingenious rubbery, faux wood heel. As I turned to Sophie, I noticed another shopper staring drily at us from where she sat trying on half a dozen ugly pairs of shoes. “At least they’re comfortable!” I encouraged.

Getting a cool reception at the shoe store, we left. We then cruised into the eye glass store, since had I was convinced that it would be a short time before I needed eye glasses and the excuse of not really wanting to see things clearly was getting old. Though, with that said, let me just defend my blurry vision with this; Not everything is worth seeing. What you don’t see is sometimes less offensive, and therefore, I think the choice to get glasses or contact lenses is something that should be taken very seriously, very seriously indeed.

Once in the store, Sophie and I tried on numerous glass frames. Sophie was sure that all the glasses she tried on made her see more clearly. She jumped around in her most astute ninja poses and said with confidence, “I can see everything now!” Ninja poses and clear glass in studious frames are obvious confidence boosters. Finally getting bored she said, shoving a pair of pink framed glasses into my hands, “Here, these made me see better. Buy em’, so we can go.” I could see that the Sherbet, Build-A-Bear spell was beginning to wear off. Without further adieu, I quickly picked up and like a nomad searching for the ever-elusive herd of buffalo and we continued onward toward the housewares department at Macys.

Finally, in the housewares department, I quickly canvassed the landscape searching for a salad spinner that was impervious to shattering, since time was fleeting and Sophie had mentioned, yet again, how long our journey had been. It seemed like an assessment of mere factual information, but I knew that in that sweet voice was a complaint. Her expiration date for shopping was drawing near. I had to be quick. Finding a stainless steel salad spinner, one better than I expected to find, I quickly made my purchase and we proceeded to the car.

In reality, we were in the mall for a relatively short amount of time, maybe an hour and a half. To Sophie, it seemed like an entire day was belabored, wasted, and spent chasing nonsense. Who needs a stupid salad spinner anyway? It’s been three years that I’ve been complaining to my Father about the trip, the little errand we’re on. Not always coming right out with it, I’ve postured and hinted, as if it would be less offensive that way.

I’ve never been remiss in pointing out the time that seems to pass ever so slowly. I keep waiting to leave this exhausting little journey of failure and pain behind me, counting the grueling steps, as they linger on, but God is clearly not done with the journey yet. He’s got more in store. How long, I cannot even guess, because He reminds me in scripture, “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways” (Isaiah 55:8).

What I know is this, God has a plan for me; “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord. “They are plans for good and not disaster, to give you a future and a hope” (Jeremiah 29:11). My voice does not go unheard. I know that God hears me, intimately knows my circumstances, and has something better in store. Just as it was an exhausting for Sophie to trek through the mall, not knowing when the journey would end, I knew all along that it wouldn’t take as long as she thought, we’d be done before she knew it, and we’d have at least the journey behind us to account for what we needed. How much more does a perfect, omniscient God know of my circumstances? It’s humbling just to imagine.


“Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything” (James 1:3 & 4).