When Pier 1 Imports stores closed their doors locally a year or so ago, I felt a distinct loss. Throughout the ’70s and ’80s, I enjoyed browsing the Pier 1, sometimes buying exotic items that weren’t readily available elsewhere; for instance, I got my first Greek Fisherman’s Cap at a Pier 1. I wore that hat for years, until I mislaid it in the early ’90s.
Of course, what really drew me to the Pier wasn’t hats, or mysterious Chinese tea bags, or any of the thousands of other esoteric odds and ends on offer. It was the smell of wicker. I’m not a great fan of wicker furniture, but wandering around a store like that, soaking up the atmosphere, enjoying my youth, I now find that the smell of wicker brings me back to my mid-20s.
In the mid ’80s, around ’84 or ’85, I was introduced to a little furniture store in a small town in Indiana, not far from where my (1st) wife and I were living. The store was in a schoolhouse that had been disused for years, and was now going under the name “The Schoolhouse of Educated Wicker”. A couple of friends thought we would enjoy seeing this local oddity, and they took us there. They were right, we thought a schoolhouse-turned-furniture store was worth seeing, but for me, it was almost a burning-bush experience.
Now, I’m not usually given to mystic experiences; that is to say, as a Pentecostal, I am no stranger to the voice of God, speaking in Tongues, etc., but generally, my experiences are not all that “out there”. This time, however, I confess I was in uncharted territory.
The moment I stepped into the wicker store, I was immediately aware of something like a dark cloud of sadness. It was almost visible. It seemed to stop my breath. I stood still for a few moments, knowing I was in the presence of something supernatural, although something I could find no precedent for, in Scripture or anywhere else. After a short pause, I began to understand the sadness. The building I was standing in was mourning its fate. It had been built and intended to be a school, it had fulfilled its purpose for a time; now it was doomed, for the time being at least, to exist as a market for wicker furniture.
Many things in the spiritual realm are far outside my comprehension, and I had no idea what to do with the thing I had just experienced, but there seemed to be nothing I could do about it, no-one I could even share the experience with. Who would understand, or even believe me? I decided to set it aside. The experience was real, I was convinced it was a manifestation from the Lord, but beyond that, the whole thing seemed to be something I had stumbled upon which was simply not my business. I let it go and as far as is possible, I forgot about it.
–oOo–
This is where I would like to say that God must have the patience of Job, but compared to God’s patience, Job’s is chickenfeed.
God planted a seed nearly forty years ago that today is showing distinct signs of sprouting. In the next installment, you’ll see the sequel to this tale. Please stay tuned. I promise you won’t have to wait forty years, or even forty days; further, I promise your curiosity will be either satisfied or heightened. You don’t want to miss this.
David L Henderson,
1/27/2022
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