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Lessons from a Changing Table

Marilyn Rockett

Texas Home School Coalition Association REVIEW © February 2002

“It’s just not fair,” I cried out to no one in particular. My rocking chair creaked in agreement as I simultaneously rocked and protested. I didn’t have the courage to speak the words directly to God, although the awareness that He heard me anyway nagged at my pouting heart.

Burning tears rolled down my cheeks and dripped onto my very pregnant front. I was two thousand miles from any family, pregnant with our third child, and we were a struggling one-income family. We had recently sold a nice home and, in our move, had settled for an older but clean rental house with an extra bedroom for a nursery.

We hoped for a girl because we had two sons. White eyelet curtains and a beautiful white Jenny Lind baby bed were already placed in the room. All that was lacking was the piece of furniture that was the cause of my tears – a white, wooden changing table.

I had seen it in the store and decided that it was just what I needed. Besides, I rationalized, it was practical. I needed storage space and it would save my back from strain while changing diapers. I began to mentally word the request to my husband. He wouldn’t refuse!

That evening I rehearsed the words over and over in my mind as I waited for the right moment to voice them. After dinner and bedtimes for the boys, I carefully (or would that be manipulatively?) explained the wisdom of making this investment. My husband’s brow furrowed as he listened. When I ended my speech, he breathed a heavy breath and slowly let out his words. “Honey, it isn’t possible right now.”

Maybe he hadn’t understood! Couldn’t he see that I needed the changing table? Didn’t he care about my health and my depression over the loss of our house? It really wasn’t that much money!

Days passed, and I continued to brood over the changing table. Didn’t God care about my disappointment? Couldn’t he provide such a small thing?

Could we stretch a few dollars? Maybe after the baby arrived we could still manage the coveted purchase. I turned over every angle in my mind but met a dead end each time a paycheck came and WENT. My stubborn heart refused to believe that the Lord was unwilling to grant this simple request. What should have been a growing trust in God was twisting into a selfish demand.

Then one day I saw it! Right on a lawn, among the usual sundry items in someone’s yard sale, was a white, wooden changing table! I couldn’t believe my eyes!

“How much for the changing table?” I asked the pleasant lady who greeted me. “Oh, I’m sorry. It’s sold,” she replied. “The buyer will be picking it up later.”

Surely not, I reasoned. Why would God allow me to drive down this street and see my coveted dream sitting right before my eyes, only to snatch it away?

As I regained my composure, I managed to ask how much it sold for. When I learned that it was only ten dollars, I consciously had to hold back the tears. “A man paid for it and said he would return with a different vehicle to pick it up tomorrow,” the lady added.

Somehow I found myself giving her my phone number and asking her to call me “just in case” the man didn’t show up. Numbly I drove home, forgetting the grocery store trip.

Once home, the wave of pent-up depression engulfed me. A flood of tears broke loose like a dam bursting, and I threw “whys” at God like a one-sided tennis match. “O.K., God, I give up! Make me willing to forget the table and trust that you have a better plan in mind. I don’t understand, but I surrender to you. Please forgive my spoiled-brat demands and cleanse my heart.”

 The next weekend arrived, and it appeared that the table must be gone. I fought the blue mood that attempted to raise its ugly head. “God, I’m willing to be willing. Please help me,” I prayed.

Cleaning out the nursery closet as an alternative for the changing table storage seemed like a productive, positive thing to do, so I set to work.

When the phone rang, I was surprised to hear the voice on the other end saying, “Do you still want the changing table? The man never picked it up. We are moving today. If you still want, it you may come get it.” Want it? Of course, I wanted it!

My mind whirled with thoughts of arrangements to pick it up. “What about money? Do you want cash?” She replied, “We’re leaving in a few minutes and the table is on the curb. The garbage truck gets it Monday if you don’t. We collected our money from the man, so do what you want. Just wanted to let you know it’s here.”

“Thank you,” I stammered, and I heard the dial tone in my ear as I stood gripping the phone in disbelief.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I spoke aloud to God. “Oh, Lord, I’ve been so ungrateful! You didn’t want me to buy a changing table. You wanted to give me a changing table. Thank you for teaching me and being patient with me. I’m sorry I questioned your motives!”

I grabbed my car keys with the intent of hurrying before someone picked up the abandoned table. But a verse of Scripture kept rolling through my mind, so I stopped to open my Bible. I read:  “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.” Jeremiah 29:11-13

I smiled. “Guess I don’t have to rush too much to get the table, Lord. I know it will be sitting right there when I arrive!”

That child was the third of four Rockett sons. Then came four grandsons from the oldest son’s marriage. The Rocketts finally welcomed a granddaughter into the family four years ago and will have number six grandchild in January 2002. The heaven-sent changing table was eventually passed on to another family. Phil. 4:19 -- “And my God will meet ALL your needs according to his glorious riches in Christ Jesus.”

 Meet Marilyn Rockett, author of this article.

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