The Picnic Table
by
Den Watson
“Yoo hoo, mister!”
These are the words I hear as I’m getting into my car in the parking lot of the local home improvement center. When I look I see a black woman of 60 or so in one of those electric shopping carts. She’s sitting next to a fully assembled picnic table near the entrance of the store.
The woman is saying something else to me, so I walk closer to and say good morning. She returns the greeting and pointing in the direction of my car asks, “Do you think this picnic table will fit in my car?” When I look I see a small, square subcompact parked next to my sedan and realize no way will the table fit. In fact, her car would fit on top of the table!
It’s a heavy, well-made table with benches attached, worthy of a park or campground.
“I just bought this table,” she said, “and now I have to get it home.”
I thought to myself, They’ll have unassembled kits for these tables that might fit inside her little car. But, and for some reason I can't explain, I also thought, This woman doesn’t want a kit—she wants this table she’s sitting right next to, and I have a feeling she’s going to sit right here until she gets it: the Lord will provide. And maybe He did, because right then I decided I’m going to help her get this picnic table home. Don’t really know why—I just did. And little did I know that by meeting this woman I would be rewarded with two small miracles.
Parked on the other side of the table is one of those vans you rent for $19.95 an hour—a goal almost nobody achieves. We introduce ourselves—her name is Joey––and walk into the store to the customer service counter where a very helpful young lady—Angela— waits on us.
“Does that table outside fit into the van for rent?” we ask.
Angela gets on the phone and assures us it does.
“Will someone load it into the van for us?”
Another quick call.
“No problem.”
Now Joey is reaching for her purse, but I wave her away and give Angela a credit card.
“We’ll settle up later, later, Joey. Right now I have to follow you home in the van, and I hope you’re on the ground floor.”
Joey says it’s very close, a large apartment complex, and yes, she’s on the ground floor. Five minutes later I’m in the van following Joey, and soon I’m negotiating the narrow apartment lanes. But I pull in and park 20 feet from Joey’s apartment. Joey, it turns out, is also a lay minister in her church, and her place is filled with cases of water, food, and paper supplies. Joey would like the picnic table out in her little patio, but the way the apartment is now we couldn’t get a folding chair out there.
I nod to a couple of young black men emptying their trash—Joey says they might help— and I also spy a maintenance man who seems to be avoiding us. He’s seen the van with the big table wedged into it. I walk over to him, explain the situation, give him $20, and tell him I’ll be right back to help after I make a quick trip home.
At this point I tell Joey not to worry about the money.
“I have a hidden agenda, Joey, something you can help me with later, but right now I need you to follow me back to the parking lot and my car. I live nearby and I’m going to get some tools to help move the table.”
It takes another 20 minutes to go home and return to Joey’s apartment - where the first miracle has occurred. Somehow, in the short time I was gone, Joey’s picnic table was removed from the van, carried through the crowded apartment, and planted on the patio exactly where Joey wanted it. Amazing!
I return the van to the store where the second miracle occurs. The van charge is actually $19.95! Joey and I completed our mission in 55 minutes.
I return to Joey’s apartment and share my hidden agenda. I’ve written a play about integrating the US Army in 1947, and I need young black and white men to read for the parts. Can Joey help me with this at a later date?
“Of course,” says Joey, “and I have just the place for us to sit.”
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