I stood there dumbfounded; unable to move, unable to choose.
I felt ill equipped to make any decision whatsoever. The weightiness of the endless possibilities I had before me fell square upon my shoulders and I cowered.
I finally had to realize that for today, my quest was over.
I hung my head in decorator shame and left the fabric store.
You see, I had been standing there surrounded by deliriously beautiful bolts of material with colors of fire orange, emerald green, haunting black and deep sea blue. My original mission when I left the house was to pick a neutral swag of some nice material to drape across the tops of my still-bare living room and dining room windows. But once I got into the store, the choices overwhelmed me.
I went from stripe, to paisley, to flowers, to bold, to muted. I stepped back. I moved forward. I unwound fabric from the bolts only to be unsure of myself again and wind the precious prints back around.
In the end, it was just me and a wall of fabulous color.
And I left with nothing.
And that's okay. I was proud of myself that I didn't succumb, didn't give in just because I was there and this task was something I wanted to get accomplished and crossed off my list for today. I'm fairly sure that any one of those fabrics I had in my hot little hands would have looked great topping my picture windows. But none of them struck me, even a little. It's a new thing for me to realize that sometimes the best choice is no choice at all. Especially if I'm unsure.
Just because it's right, doesn't mean it's right for me.
This decision was only about fabric. Pretty small ticket item. The next choice I have staring me down could involve people, careers, homes, children, lives. I pray that God will remind me of today's outing when I'm at a crossroads and show me that it's okay to wait. It's okay to walk away for a bit until I'm sure.
Because once the fabric's cut, the deal is sealed. No refunds, no returns. I've committed.
And that will be curtains for me.