(Continued from my last post, “Nekked in London”)
So there we were, luggage-less in London. After three stressful days enduring chaotic airports, broken planes, crowded buses and sleeping in the same clothes, my co-travelers threw their hands in the air (who could blame them?) and hailed a taxi to Primark, England’s answer to WalMart (but the prices are better and the selection larger, if you can imagine such a thing).
Actually, I think everybody in London had the same urge at the same time because the general population of my hometown crowded every square inch of that place.
I immediately felt overwhelmed (I’m not a good shopper on the best of days) and resigned myself to portering a pull-bin (like a rolling mesh laundry bin with a handle) for my sister as she jump-shot items into it over shoppers and around displays like a WNBA star.
I found myself muttering, “so sorry” and “excuse me” every five seconds as I jockeyed for position, bumping, checking and slamming the thousand people occupying my aisle.
If we’d been wearing helmets, we could’ve called it retail roller derby.
As I mentioned in my previous post (you may want to scroll back and reread), I had already resolved NOT to buy replacement clothes, blindly trusting that Papa God would work the miracle I’d requested and deliver our luggage in the eleventh hour before we left London the next morning.
I must admit, weak vessel that I am, my attention was sorely captured by a pair of jeans (only 7 pounds – what a steal! That’s money pounds, not weight pounds – remember, we were in England) and several adorable tops. I held them in my hands and visualized wearing them. My resolve wavered. But something stopped me. No. I said I would trust Papa God to come through. I must now act on that stubborn trust. I put them back.
We checked out (took forrr-evvv-er; the line wrapped around a city block), grabbed a taxi, and returned to our hotel room where … wait for it … our long lost luggage greeted us with open arms. Or at least happy handles.
Yay Papa God! My heart sang! My spirits soared! HE DID IT; He came through. He sank the wild half-court shot in the last second of the game. I did a happy dance on the spot.
Stubborn trust. My friend, I’m here to tell you it ain’t easy, but the One who promises, delivers. “Call to me, and I will answer you, and show you great and mighty things, which you do not know” (Jeremiah 33:3, NKJV).
Tell me, when have you depended on stubborn trust to get you through a rough patch? I love your comments and would really like to hear from you.
*In the spirit of full disclosure, I did buy a raincoat staring me in the face as we waited in the interminable checkout line. Glad I did too – it came in mighty handy later in Scotland, as you’ll soon see.
Stay tuned for more Crazy Coty Travel Adventures!
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