One Woman's Trash | Another Woman's TREASURE

I've been on a hunt.

Like, for years.

In my mind I've known what I wanted. 

THE PERFECT CHAIR.

A short chair for my short legs.

A comfy chair because, well, that'd be SILLY to not want a comfy chair.

A wrap-around type chair that I could put my elbow up on and still be comfy.

Or snuggle down in and still be comfy.

A wide chair that I could squish into and read for hours,
putting my legs this way and that.

I've passed up chairs that were ALMOST what I was looking at.

I've passed up chairs that seemed just ABOUT perfect, yet the springs were shot.
Or they were falling apart.
Or whatever.

But I knew that when I spotted her,
I'd know deep down that she was the one.

It was an early winter morning.
2014.
A Wednesday to be exact.
 Or maybe it was Friday.

It was before 6am and I was off to the gym.
Pitch dark.
And there, down the distance of the alley,
she stood.
Beside a garbage can.
Which was beside a garage.

My heart did a double-beat.
Could it be?

OH BOY HOWDY.
It MIGHT be.

I pulled up.
Jumped out of the mini-mini
and thought,
"This is it." 
It's velvety.
And short.
And wide.
And wraps around.
And seemingly comfy.

Now mind you, it was pitch black so I couldn't see what sort of shape it was in.
But I couldn't let it go.
Because I think I would have died had I come back an hour later and it was gone.

So I did what every self-respectable individual would do.
I opened up the hatch.
Hoisted the thing up.
Threw it in the back.
And wished upon a star that when it really was my dream chair.
But I'd have to wait until daybreak to determine if it was, indeed my dream becoming reality.

Once gym-time was done and the sun was up,
I could see that SHE WAS THE ONE.

I mean, royal navy-ish blue is NOT my color.
And the material was rather, how shall we say it, skanky.
BUT...

 Oh how I love you Sweet Chair, 
let me count the ways:
1. You're short. And us short folk must stick together.
2. You're velvety, with a smidge of extreme raggedy
3. You're a wrap-around style, just exactly what I love.
4.  You're tufted. Need I say more? Oh how tufted is a dream-come-true.
5. You are scuffed and imperfect. Just like me. We match.

 She's a beaut, ain't she?
If you're a hater, I don't want to hear your opinion.
Zip it.

She was beat up, however.
Needed some special attention and healing.

I started dreaming of recovering her with my very favorite ever colour on the planet.
The perfect teal/turquoise.
Now, mind you, there is a lot of NON-perfect teal/turquoise out there.
So it had to be perfect.

And then reality set in.
Holy hot tamales, reupholstering a chair is UBER expensive.
Like, I HAD NO IDEA HOW EXPENSIVE.
Like, this really isn't an option EXPENSIVE.
As in hundreds of dollars, people.
HUNDREDS.

And then my little brain went into 'problem-solving-mode.'
The type of mode that says, "Alright, if I can't justify paying for this,
how can I make this happen?"

And then I remembered that I had a nice, sizeable chunk of Christmas 
money that I hadn't spent.
Tucked away for JUST-THE-RIGHT-THING.

Hmmm.
CURIOUS.

And then I realized that before too terribly long,
someone I knew would be having a birthday,
and the birthday girl could save her birthday money and add that to her Christmas money.

Hmmmm.
CURIOUS.

And eventually, that birthday girl would run smack-dab into Christmas 2014, 
which would probably produce another stash of Christmas cash.

HMMM.
Problem solved.

I wouldn't have to pay a penny
and yet I'd still get my dream chair.
As a gift is all.

But in my mind, there was still a HUGE dilemma attached to the chair:
"In the end I don't take this crap with me, 
so should I spend this much money on a chair?
On.A.Chair?"
Even if it IS a gift?

YIKERS.

Not gonna lie.
Wrestled with this one for awhile
because it does seem so frivilous to me,
especially when children around the world are actually dying 
because they don't have food to eat.

I mean, THAT is reality. Not making that up.
People die because they can't get food. In 2014.
 While I waste money on frivolity. 
I tend to brush those things aside when I'm wanting something.


See, these are the things that keep me up at night.

But I think it's good to wrestle with this sort of thing.
Yes?

So I shared my dilemma with Jack.
My sounding board.
My voice of reason.
My level-headed guy.

And I think he was floored at the price to refinish a chair, too.
But ultimately, I explained that between Christmas and birthday, I really could cover
most of the cost of the chair, if not all, so we wouldn't be out-of-pocket for anything.

SO.
It was a really hard decision.
Want versus need.
Is it okay to have pretty things?
Is it okay to spend money on things that aren't necessary but are fun and bring delight?

So perhaps you're wondering 
where I landed:

WELL....

Here's what I decided:

It is okay to have pretty things. 
And as long as that's not my modus operandi in life -- acquiring stuff -- 
then I can have the occasional special treat.
And I can't feel bad about wanting my house to feel pretty 
and surrounded with beauty I enjoy.
 I think especially for we women, God designed us to be that way - 
to nest and to want to be surrounded by beauty and peacefulness.

And it is okay to spend money on things that aren't a necessity 
but bring great delight or joy or pleasure.
Again -- attached to moderation.

I think God gets tickled when He sees us enjoying what He's given.
Or what we've earned.
Or what we've longed for.
 

Moderation.  

Perhaps the spice to life.
I think for me, I can justify the occasional splurge if my lifestyle is 
generally the opposite of splurge.
And if my habit is to NOT spend frivolously 
but from time-to-time do a bit of pampering,
then I think I'm okay with it.

I hope I always wrestle with this sort of thing and never get to the 
point where I just say, "I want it, therefore I'll buy it!"
I want to think before I purchase.
I want to be wise.
I don't want to be wasteful.

And I think my bottom line is that I want to be wise and non-wasteful so that I can be generous to those in need.

So there you have it. 
How I dealt wrestled with justifying this delightful treat that now sits in my front living room.

Oh how I love her.
Coco, too.