An explosion of color, the vibrant multitude of wares was sensory overload to some. But to me the open-air Straw Market was a delicious cocoon to wrap myself in.
A beautiful tapestry of hues, it was hidden behind the usual touristy shops, of charming but pastel wood and windows.
Though I reveled in the rainbow, my eyes feasting on the delicious eye-candy of the tropics, I had adeptly avoided entering any stalls so far.
I admired from afar as we strolled hand-in-hand down the middle if the street, knowing the Preacher would be less than enthused if accosted by eager venders. Smiling and nodding, exchanging pleasantries, we wove our way through.
Embedded deep in the straw market, I was inevitably drawn to a particularly stunning purple scarf and the artistic way it was displayed as a sarong.
I tentatively stepped inside the booth and fingered the lovely fabric when a musical voice sang out from behind a partial partition. I could barely see her in the dim light, sitting in a chair, digging through her purse for some elusive item.
“Can I help you find a scarf darlin’?”
“What color you like?”
Carefully she unfolded her large body from the chair. When she came slowly toward the light I realized she was very old. Her face was a dark roadmap of her life, with folds and wrinkles framing surprisingly undimmed eyes.
Dressed in worn Sunday finery she looked down at her large flat feet with chagrin and said,
“I’s not suppos’d to be barefoot, but I likes to be barefoot.”
Looking down again she repeated it as if scolding herself,
“I’s not suppos’d to be barefoot.”
With a sideways grin she told me she had type-two diabetes and had to be careful with her feet.
Back to the business at hand, she pulled down the purple scarf I admired. In a sweet motherly way she proceeded to show me all the ways I could wear the scarf.
But not before she asked my less than enthusiastic husband to step into her stall and watch. She thought he could help me later since I was the model, which did make it rather hard to see exactly what she was doing. (That was not going to happen but I didn’t dare tell her.)
As she happily dressed me, I asked her name.
“Beulah” she replied,
“Like the gospel song. You know it? Sweet Beulah Land?”
I assured her I did which made her smile even more brightly. “We’s got to thank The Lord for everthin’ you know?”
Yes I do know. New scarf in hand, as I reentered the sunshine, I thanked Him for a gentle reminder, and for Beulah’s shinning light today.
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Psalm 118:1a-Give thanks to The Lord for he is good.
-I need a Beulah in my life everyday to remind me to be thankful. Who or what has reminded you to be thankful?
-Make a list of the “everthin'” you need to give thanks for today and do it.