Meeting JC and the Flat Panel TV

I wake up cranky.  I drag myself out of bed at noon.  My feet are wet and stick to the sheets from a night of sweating. I untangle myself from soaked linens and put my feet on the floor.  I stumble to the bathroom and sit down, frustrated by the cat litter now stuck to my toes.  I vacuumed last night, and already Charlotte has kicked litter out of the box and all over the floor.  I dust it off, and it sticks to my sweaty hands.  I fling them around, up and down, shaking them, attempting to un-stick the biodegradable crystals from my palms.  No luck.  It's like the finger flicking that happens after I've picked my nose.  I downgrade my mood to downright bitchy.

I decide to forego a shower.  What's the point? 

I wrestle my sweaty legs into a pair of khaki, capri-length pants and a white t-shirt with three quarter length sleeves. It doesn't matter how hot it is, I am fat, and I'm not revealing a thing to anyone.

The car has air conditioning, and I have to get out of this apartment turned furnace.  I spray three squirts of "Happy" by Clinique on my chest and head out the door.   

Driving over to Noah's for a Nova Lox and cream cheese bagel sandwich, I talk to God.   It's not prayer; it's moping and moaning, and poor me-ing.  I tell Him it's a scorcher outside and inside, and I can't get any sleep.  I tell Him that even though I've worked all summer teaching summer school I still don't have enough money to do anything fun.  I tell Him that today I'm going to buy the flat panel TV I've been placing into my shopping cart on every retail website that sells it for the past 6 months because I can longer tolerate how cramped my living room is. I have no room to arrange the furniture, which has been centered around a 27" tube TV for the three years I've lived in this charming, but very small apartment.  I tell God I don't care if it's not okay to buy something I don't need because I'm doing it anyway. I'll pay cash, I tell Him, reassuring myself, not God, about making this purchase.

I park just outside of Noah's, go in, order and eat my sandwich, return to my car, and head to Walmart.  I don't shop at Walmart because I don't like their business practices, so I'm not sure where it is exactly.  I drive in the direction of where I think it is.  Walmart has the 26" flat panel TV I want for $526.00, and my need for neatness and space and the clarity that I imagine will come when I rearrange my living room is bigger than my dedication to boycott; at least today it is.

I drive and drive and drive.  I thought it was here?  Or, maybe over there?  Go left?  No, turn right?  No luck. After 20 minutes of going this way and that, I'm relieved that I can't find the damn store.

On my way back home, I see a K-Mart, and I simultaneously hear a voice in my head that says, "Go in there."  I don't shop at K-Mart either (because it's nasty dirty), but I decide to obey.  I park, go in, and scan the big signs hanging from the ceiling around the store, finally focusing on the one that reads, "Electronics." I walk that way. 

I check each aisle, but they don’t have what I'm looking for.  On my way back to the front of the store, I grab two eight packs of those smaller, plastic bottle diet cokes, and a 24 rolls of toilet paper.

In line, I stand and wait, feeling sorry for my pitiful self.  How many times have I listened to that voice in my head and obeyed it, only to find out no one was really speaking to me.

A black couple waits in line in front of me.  The man asks the clerk, "Are any of your TV sets going to go on sale any time soon?"

"Not that I know of," she replies.  The front of her red smock is covered in what looks like melted chocolate.  Everything is melting today.  She stands hunched over the register, picking out keys with her forefinger as she speaks.  Her brown, shoulder length hair is dirtier than mine, and I wonder how many days, she opted out of her shower routine.

The wife further explains, "We really want a new TV, but we need it to be on sale.  How can we find out if and when they go on sale?"

"You can check the weekly ads in the newspaper or go online."

At this point, the voice in my head speaks again, "If you give them your TV, you can get a new one today."

I respond to the voice, "I'm not giving them my TV," unsure of why I'm being totally obstinate.  Could be the heat that has fried my brain.  Could be that I've obeyed that voice in my head once today and it landed me in K-Mart of all places.  Could be that I didn't take a shower and I smell like a dead dog wearing perfume.

They buy their Gain laundry detergent, Aquafresh toothpaste, and generic trash bags and leave.  The clerk rings up my items.  I pay with my debit card but make her charge it as Visa because I've heard about the fees banks and merchants charge for using ATM cards.  It takes a moment longer, but the couple is still in the parking lot when I exit the store.

I hear the voice again, "If you give them your TV, then you CAN buy a new one today."

"I'm NOT giving them my TV.  I don't know them.  They'll think I'm nuts."  I now know I'm talking to God, and He is talking to me.  I don't know how I know, but I know.  Usually this type of knowing leads me to obey, but I dig in my heals.

The man unlocks the passenger door for the woman, and I notice they are driving a beat up blue Chevy truck that has survived 9 lives of fender benders. Two large pieces of plywood stand up on each side of the bed of the truck creating a make-shift support system for hauling large items.   I can see an old refrigerator from where I stand 100 yards away watching them and trying to shut out the voice that says one more time, "If you give them your TV, you can BUY a new one."

"I'm not giving them my TV, God, because that would require talking to them, and I'm not talking to anyone today."

I get in my car, buckle my seatbelt, and drive toward Best Buy, which is 15 minutes away, but a straight shot north on Rosemead Boulevard.  I turn up the tunes and belt out, "Forgive, sounds good. Forget, I'm not sure I could. They say time heals everything, But I'm still waiting," soaking in the rhythm of the Dixie Chicks.

"I want you to give that couple your TV."

"God, they are gone.  I couldn't give it to them even if I wanted to now, and like I said, I don't want to."

I drive on, singing, but the beat of my heart starts to race, and I feel like my chest wall might pop open.  I speak to God one more time in an attempt to make the racing feeling subside.

"OKAY, Lord, if you want me to give them the TV, then make them park next to me at Best Buy, and I WILL GIVE THEM THE TV," offering up a type of Biblical fleece like Gideon did in the Old Testament.   I know this is impossible.  I search the road ahead of me, behind me, on each side of me.  No sign of the blue wreck anywhere. 

I drive and sing, "Forgive, sounds good. Forget, I'm not sure I could. They say time heals everything, But I'm still waiting."  The song ends, and I click the replay button on my iPod and listen to it again. 

When I pull into the parking lot at Best Buy, I park in a spot that has a Lexus sedan on one side and a Volkswagen convertible bug on the other.  I do this on purpose.  I don't want to wait around to see if they show up.

As I unbuckle my seat belt, I look in the rear view mirror, and holy shit, THERE THEY ARE, pulling into the spot in the aisle behind me.

"Okay. Okay. OKAY!"  I'm standing at their truck just as the man is opening the passenger door for the woman.  I introduce myself.

"Hi, you don't know me, but I just saw you at K-Mart in San Gabriel, and I heard you ask about TVs.  I know you'll think I'm weird or crazy or whatever, and believe me, I AM, but I think God told me to give you my TV."

Big smiles come over both faces.  He holds out his hand in my direction.  "Hi, my name is J. C. and this is my wife Ella."

I'm stuck on the initials of his name, J. C., and thinking, you've got to be kidding, your name is J. C. 

I say, "Hello."

Ella is upon me now, planting a big kiss on my right cheek and hugging me tightly, exclaiming, "Praise the Lord, aren't you sweet! Oh, honey, thank you.  Praise the Lord!"

I give them my phone number, and this time I hear my dead grandma's voice (Southern accent and all), "Don't you tell them where you live. Tell them you'll bring it to them."

I write out my address, talk J. C. through the directions, and tell them I'm going inside to get a TV and I'll be home in less than an hour.

My hands are shaking now.  The fear and reverence I know I've felt for God before floods in on me again, but this time it emerges as a sweet, sweet fragrance.  My knees buckle and wobble and tears form behind my eyeballs, but I keep moving toward the door. 

Hanging on the back wall, I see a TV that I think will work, but it's $600.00 not $500.00. It's a Westinghouse TV.  I'm contemplating the expense, when I feel a tap on my shoulder.  It's Ella, and she reaches toward me with a closed fist, extending it to me.

"I'm supposed to give you this," she says.

I open my hand to receive it.  I look down and see money.  I can't tell how much it is.

"Oh, I don't want your money.  You can have the TV.  It's my gift."

"But, I'm supposed to give it to you," she says.

"No, no, no, I won't take your money.  You can have the TV.  I am supposed to give it to you."

At this, she goes all loud on me, "Honey, if you don't take this money, I'm going to wack you on the head with this DVD!"  She is holding a copy of FINDING FORESTER in her other hand waving it at me and smiling.  "What, you can give me a TV, but I can't give you anything.  What's that about?  I'm supposed  to give this to you."

I am shaking.  Tears are coming.  I concede and take the money.

"Honey," she continues, "If we ever get rid of our 42 inch plasma TV, we're giving it to you."

Turns out J.C. and Ella have just bought a house in Pomona.  They want the extra TV for a guest room and don't want to spend a lot of money for it.

"Thank you," I say, and she walks away, yelling, "J. C., where'd you go?"

I unfold the bill and discover she's handed me one hundred dollars. 

At this, I can no longer hold back the tears.  I cry and snort and then I laugh out loud.  God is full of surprises.

Now, I just need to add some paint to liven up the place, but the opening up of the space has made a world of difference!

August 7, 2007

 

Comments

[Karin]

Now THAT is a story worth telling AND reading, again and again! Thanks for putting this online for others like me to get a glimpse of this AMAZING God who loves us and knows just what we need...TV and all! Keep writing my friend....

[robyn]

Wow! What an awesome story! And I love that his name is J.C. :)

[bethany]

love it! pesky voice sometimes, but the best one ever :)