Does God care about a mirror?

I woke that morning thinking about my daughter’s bedroom.  She was coming for a visit with her husband soon, and I wanted everything to be perfect.  We had recently been given a queen-size bed from a friend who was getting rid of some furniture, and we had set it up in my daughter’s bedroom, replacing the smaller bed she had slept on growing up.  But it didn’t fit exactly in the same spot, so we had to move the furniture around.  I had bought a different picture to hang above the headboard, and we had touched up the paint on the walls.  The small nightstand that used to be beside her old bed looked too small next to the new, larger bed, so I had traded it with a table from another room.  Now I was on the hunt for a nicer looking mirror to go over her dresser. The one that hung there now seemed too small; you couldn’t see more than your face looking back at you. 

So, I had planned to go shopping that day for a mirror.  And if you know me, you’ll know that this could be tricky to do by myself.  If I drove by myself to one of the stores that sells home furnishings like that, I would have to find a parking spot near a shopping cart and hold onto it for balance.  I would have to ask for help to put the mirror into my shopping cart, and then somehow I would have to get it into my car.  If it wasn’t for Covid, I would ask a friend to go with me, although that did seem a rather superfluous request.

I found myself praying as I lay back on my pillow, “Lord, help me to find just the right mirror before my daughter arrives next week, and somehow help me to get it home.”  And then I felt silly.  Who prays for something like that?  I felt materialistic, extravagant.  I should be thankful for what I do have. I should be glad that there is a mirror in her room, even if it’s too small.  I should be glad for a bed to sleep in and a roof over our heads.  Jesus taught us to pray for our daily bread, I thought, not our chocolate cake. 

I thought of the Sermon on the Mount, where Jesus teaches that we should be focused on storing up for ourselves treasures in heaven, not treasures on earth, “where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal.”  I decided it was frivolous to be praying for a mirror. 

I sat up in bed and grabbed my Bible from the nightstand, opening it to the passage I had been studying in John 14.  I’ve been trying to memorize this section—it’s Jesus’ last words to his disciples just before he went to the cross, and it begins like this:

“Do not let your hearts be troubled.  Trust in God; trust also in me.  In my Father’s house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you.  I am going there to prepare a place for you.  And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me, that you also may be where I am.” 

As I repeated the words out loud, it suddenly struck me that Jesus was preparing a room for me.  He is working on a room for me to come home to!  This whole idea of wanting everything to be perfect is something he completely understands.  He gets it! 

Just think what kind of place He is preparing. In my simple, earthly mind I am wondering what kind of wallpaper will be on the walls.  Will there be a comfy chair where I can enjoy a cup of tea?  But perhaps it will be nothing like that.  Our earthly understanding of heaven is so limited.  As Paul quotes in 1 Corinthians 2:

“Eye has not seen, nor ear heard,
Nor have entered into the heart of man
The things which God has prepared for those who love Him.” 

What will it be like?  We can’t even imagine.  We get a glimpse of the Holy City in heaven when John describes it in Revelation 21 and 22.  Streets made of gold, and walls decorated with precious stones.  A great river with fruit trees on its banks, and sunlight like we’ve never seen. God himself will dwell there, with no more death, no more mourning, no more crying, no more pain.  Google it and read it; it’s pretty fascinating. 

But what about here on earth?  Does God care about little things like finding a nice mirror?  Maybe it’s too trivial.  Certainly Jesus taught that we should be focused on more important things, like being kind and patient, forgiving others when they hurt us, keeping our promises, maintaining humility, and even loving our enemies.  These things are exponentially more important to him than interior decorating. 

So my prayer changed to something like this:  “Maybe this is ridiculous, God, but I’d like to find a mirror for my daughters’ room, if you think that’s okay. I realize it’s not that important, but I just want her room to be really lovely for her and her husband, and I think you understand that.”    

I drove up to Burlington, found a parking spot next to a shopping cart, wheeled it into the store, found a really nice mirror for a reasonable price, asked a store employee to help me lift it into the cart, and after paying for it, asked the cashier if there was someone who could help me put it in my car.  Of course there was.  I drove home praising God that he had given me that little gift—a gift that taught me a great lesson about his kindness in the simple things.

I have been thinking about that lesson this week, as my elderly parents are beginning the process of moving into a new home. With a desire to down-size, they have sold the beautiful house they built 23 years ago and have been looking at some homes in a retirement community nearby.  Since I live a thousand miles away, I have only been able to look at photos and take virtual tours.  My sister has been with them this week, helping them pack, and she was able to walk through a couple of possible homes with them. The first one they toured was disappointing, to say the least.  A leaky porch roof, cramped garage, and a prominent view of a boarded-up warehouse—not exactly what they were hoping for. Internet searches for the next couple of days were coupled with some fretful prayers that they could find a place before they had to be out of their current residence.

I kept thinking about Jesus’ words to his disciples, “I am going to prepare a place for you.”  I realize that he is speaking of a heavenly place, but since he is in the business of preparing places, I was asking him to give us a little taste of that now.  And the lesson of the mirror was fresh in my mind.  

The day before my sister had to leave, another house became available in the retirement community, and this time, when they walked through it, she texted me, “Oh, this is sooo much better!” The photos were reassuring.  I breathed a sigh of relief. It was lovely.  I could see my parents living there.

While no papers have been signed, and they are still weighing their options, I am confident that God has prepared a place.  Whether it is this home or something else, I believe He knows exactly what my parents need and that He cares about the small things.  Not that it will be anything like the place He is preparing for us in glory.  But while we are here on earth, I take comfort in His promise to provide for our needs.  As the old hymn reminds us, “His eye is on the sparrow, and I know he watches me.”

Suzanne Rood is the author of A LIMP OF FAITH (Credo House Publishers, 2019), her story of daily life with CMT, a hereditary neuropathy that challenges her walking, her music, and her faith. Here’s a link to purchase the book on Amazon.