The Argument About Jeggings

I was at Target the other day looking for jeggings, which are a cross between jeans and leggings. Last year when I tried to buy them, I bought the wrong size, and when I went to return them, Target had run out of my size. Seems that jeggings were popular last year.

This time, I was determined not to run into the same problem, so I took the jeggings to the dressing rooms where the attendant promptly told me I wasn't allowed to try them on because they were in a package. The package that she was referring to was a thick paper band that was wrapped around the outside of them. 

I stared at her for several seconds and then began to slide the paper band off the jeggings. "I can just take this band off. See?" I said.

"No, you can't open the package," the attendant replied.

"I'm not opening the package. See. There's just this little sticker holding this paper band on and I don't even have to take that off. I can just slide the jeggings out." Despite what I was saying, I was finding it difficult to slide the paper band off.

"No," the attendant said again. "You can't open the package. I'm telling you that you can't open the package and you're still trying to open the package, so I don't know why you keep doing that. You can't try them on."

At this point, I was getting rather irritated, but I recognized that even if I did manage to get the package off, the lady wasn't going to change her mind; more likely, she'd call security. So I stopped, scowled, and continued with my shopping.

Did the lady know that I was a mother of three small kids? Did she know how rare it was for me to shop for myself alone? Did she realize that she was asking me to go home, rip off the package, try on the jeggings, and if they didn't fit, return them with a ripped package that some Target employee (hopefully her) would then have to tape back together? Did she realize that I would be saving Target a ripped package if they just let me try on the dang pants!

I bought the jeggings and brought them home and they fit just fine, but I continued to brood. I knew what I should've done. I should've bought them and then returned to the dressing room to try them on. 

"Oh, I can't bring these into the dressing room? But they're mine. I bought them. Nana nanana!" That would've shown her! 

Twice, I returned to Target on other errands and felt a mixture of embarrassment and anger. I hoped I wouldn't see that dressing room attendant again, and if I did, would she remember me? It was a stupid encounter. Why couldn't I just forget it? The truth was I needed to know if I was right or if I needed to apologize. . . ugh.

So I had it out with God, not about Target's policies—Heaven knows Target probably has a mixture of ridiculous and sensible policies due to various situations beyond my control. No, the conversation was about my attitude. Why was I so annoyed about not being able to try on the jeggings? Because it was terribly inconvenient for me. Obeying Target's rules would require I go out of my way. 

I feel I ought to mention that when this incident occurred I was writing a Bible study lesson about submitting to authorities in our lives. How very annoying.

For me to obey Target's policies was NOT impossible, just inconvenient. That's all. Just like it was inconvenient for Jesus to win back the world from Satan's clutches by living a perfect life for thirty-odd years and dying on a cross. Jesus could've done it the easy way, by worshipping Satan when tempted in the wilderness. His could've just compromised a bit to acquire his goal. But he didn't. Because he knew that worshiping Satan wouldn't actually accomplish God's plan.

Jesus went the seemingly harder and longer route. Because it was right. Because it was God's will. And because God would supply Jesus' need for patience, peace, love, and forgiveness all along the way. Jesus trusted that God would. He didn't have to bow to Satan.

Likewise, if I trusted that God would give me enough time to buy clothes for myself, I wouldn't worry about taking home wrongly-sized jeggings. I would trust that this inconvenience is God's way because it's the honest and humble and respectful way. It's the way of the spirit. I didn't have to argue with the fitting room attendant. The Lord would provide for me.

So I found her and apologized. She was sweet and even made up an excuse for me, which was extra kind of her but not necessary. Jesus' work on the cross is my excuse and my victory. Phew! It's okay to goof up as I learn the ropes.