The Elephant in the Room

Moving into a new place is exhilarating and exhausting. The exhilaration comes when I do what I can; the exhaustion comes when I try to do what I cannot. I was completely spent by the time my living room furniture arrived at eight last night. Sidewalks go in today, and it will take two days for them to settle and dry. I was determined to get my furniture in the apartment before the work started.

The lady at the furniture store told me the furniture would be delivered between three and six. My discomfort began at four and reached panic stage at six. I called the store and was assured the furniture was on its way.

I only live a few minutes away from my new apartment, so I kept moving what I could until they arrived. I got a call around seven from a worried young man. He apologized and told me the truck had given him trouble all day. I could tell he was upset, so I told him I was fine and not to worry. He assured me I would have my furniture before eight. I relaxed knowing help was on the way and grabbed another load from the house.

I allowed worry to invade my space. Like an elephant in the room, it overshadowed everything else and spoiled what should have been a beautiful day of moving. I went outside to look for the truck because I was concerned about the unfinished drive and the coming darkness.

The sweet town I love was lighting up, so I stopped to watch. I knew I would love the night lights, but I was shocked when I looked up and saw the mountains in the distance. My new views were as beautiful as the ones on the mountain. I looked up at God, shook my head, and thanked Him for wowing me, once again. He smiled back and reminded me that He was God after all. I tend to forget that when I get caught up in my plans.

Frustration came from trying to move the elephant in the room without any help. I hate to ask for help. I want to do everything by myself and everything for everyone else. It’s no wonder I wind up winded and worrying! The only good thing about frustration and exhaustion is the sweet sigh of release that comes when I know I can do no more. I was right there when I noticed a big, white delivery truck passing by my drive. The good news is that there is a wonderfully paved parking area for state cars next to my apartment. I waved at the young man driving, and told him to stay right where he was. It would be much easier to unload from there.

The direction I think is best is not always the best one to take. God knew the right driveway for the two young men who emerged from the truck expecting a tongue lashing after a very long day. We all laughed when I told them God knew the way better than I did. They put blankets on the ground leading to my porch and proceeded to cover anything that might be marred by their moving with more blankets. I marveled at their manners and their methods.

The young man driving was a lanky country boy with big blue eyes and a soft southern drawl. The man helping him was short, stocky, and spoke with a heavy Mexican accent. He looked concerned about my placement of the love seat and said, “What about there?”

I looked where he was pointing and said, “That’s perfect if it will fit!! Do you mind to move it again?”

He smiled broadly and said, “Not at all!!”

I enjoyed talking with the young men about their long, difficult day and realized they could move what I could not, but even they could not move a truck that didn’t want to be moved. We all need help when it comes to elephants, and we all have different ones to move.

As I was drifting off to sleep, God reminded me that He would take care of the elephants if I would get out of His way and let Him do what only He can do. I’ve been trying to figure out how to move an elephant since mama died, and it has worn my heart completely out. God, and two very sweet young men, reminded me to leave the heavy moving to someone else. Help is always there, and there’s hope in that help! I can spend a lifetime trying to move an elephant, learn to live with it, or let God transform my heart by moving it for me.

© Copyright 2010 CorbisCorporation

Author: Gigi

I taught middle school for 33 years and retired in 2007. I'm enjoying my journey and loving the time I have with my two little granddaughters who call me "Gigi." I want to share my journey with them and with anyone else interested in sharing the lessons God has for me on this amazing journey.

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