Yarn Shop Tale # 1

                       

The day was cold and windy, the mountains had a defined line of snow, getting closer each day.  Claire shivered as she pushed the key through the lock of her shop on Main Street.  Smells of the days before engulfed her as she stepped inside: yarn and coffee, with just a hint of patchouli from the incense sticks she had burned a couple days before.  An, old wood stove sat in the corner ready to warm the room.  A pile of kindling waited in a basket nearby.  Jon, her husband, must have stopped by on his way to work.  How like him to quietly do these little things that you wouldn't notice if you weren't looking. Thankfulness filled her heart as she blew gently on the small flame and laid a few more pieces of wood on the fire. There had been a day when she didn't notice his simple deeds as acts of love.  

The Yarn Shop was a new venture Jon and Claire had started as a way to supplement their income. It was also a dream fulfilled for Claire.  She had gone from school and a few years of business college, directly into marriage and babies. Staying at home was never an argument.  It was what a person did.  The thought of anything else was never discussed but she thought about owning her own business every day at home with her beautiful babies.  Out of the blue one day, after hearing Claire fuss about the fact their town didn't have a single place to buy yarn or knitting things, Jon said, "Why don't we look into it?  We could start one maybe."  That same evening, after the kids were in bed, they started researching the idea online and within six months they were installed in a rented small shop on Main Street.

It was a challenge, finding the time to run a household and be a business owner but Claire was loving it so far.  They started out small.  The shop was a compact space, about 18 x 20, Two long walls filled with yarn of many colors in their own wood niches, starting about two feet off the hardwood floor and up eight feet. An, old library ladder was available on its own track so people could climb and peruse the yarn too high for them to see and touch from the floor. The wall with the window facing the street was filled with hooks and needles and all other tools needed to knit or crochet.  The remaining back wall of the shop held a long bar fitted with a copper top.  There was a cash register and credit card machine at one end to serve the buying costumer. At the other end, Claire created a self serve coffee station. This, Jon had balked at, until the "donations only" jar had filled rapidly.  Enough so, that it paid for the coffee beans and half and half twice over. Claire was suspicious it had more to do with the two, wing back chairs and the warmth of the wood stove that lured the costumer to throw their loose change into the jar after a hot cup of french pressed coffee they had fixed for themselves.

As Claire ground a day's worth of coffee beans and started water for the french presses, her next door shop keeper, Doreen, clanged through the door. Doreen was red-headed, big and blowzy. She ran a pawn shop and dealt mostly with men. She was a conundrum, her exterior as it was, yet, once seated comfortably in a chair with a cup of hot coffee, she would begin to talk about the softer things of life. Today, she was talking about her grand daughters.  They were coming for a visit soon. Staying two whole weeks with her! The excitement was bursting from the smile stretched across her face, her brown eyes filled with softness. 

  Claire listened mostly.   She was finding that listening was really want people wanted. She sometimes felt guilty for being such a good listener. There were times that a costumer would buy yarn, Claire was sure, who never intended to do anything with it.  They just felt good after talking to someone who would listen and then wanted to do something for her.  So, she listened and sometimes offered to pray for the person depending on the atmosphere she felt when listening.

  Sometimes, Claire chickened out of asking to pray for the ones who were bitter and angry.  She was afraid of the angry, foul words directed at her, and the conflict involved. That wasn't at all what she wanted in her peaceful, little yarn shop. Claire knew this was something she needed bravery in.  So what if a person was mean to her kindness?  Wasn't this the way it was living as Jesus asked her to? She was certain she was a wimp and didn't like the feeling it gave her.  A listener with no heart.  Listening, but never really sharing her own heart or thoughts about what Jesus meant to her and how He could change the angry, bitter living. 

"Would that work for you?" Doreen's rough voice brought Claire out her soul searching.

"I'm sorry," Claire said quietly, "What did you ask?"  What a hypocrite! she thought. Thinking about her good listening skills and missing the conversation in front of her.

"I was wondering if my grand babies could spend time with your girls here after school the evenings I have to stay at the pawn shop?"  If Doreen was offended, she certainly didn't show it.  She was shrugging back into her flimsy, drab sweater.  " I was thinking they could do their homework or something. Let me know sometime." Making her way over to the sink, she drained her cup.  "I gotta get back to work.  I'm in the middle of cleaning a gun."  Doreen snorted as she made her way out the door. "Dirty, old thing."

"Have a good day," Claire's voice trailed behind the already closed door.  That really was the answer, Claire decided.  Go with each day and opportunity as they came and answer the questions as the answers came.  Instead of worrying over whether she should be bolder or more forthwith with her witness she could do each moment as they came, as she felt direction.  The thing to figure out was how to be sensitive to whether it was her own personal direction or God's direction.