On furniture and churches

Nobody ever told me that buying custom upholstered furniture was one of the hardest things you'll ever do in life. I have finally finished placing orders for various pieces for my formal living room. Hall-luh-lu-yer. It took me two months. I am exhausted. Everyone around me is exhausted. It will probably all look ugly and mismatched when it arrives, and no one will dare say a word. Trust me.

I decided over the course of the last couple of months that buying furniture is a lot like church shopping. Every store has its own personality, and when you finally find the right one with the right stuff at the right price, you breathe a deep sigh of relief. Sometimes you end up staying at the one you might not have originally picked, but circumstances tell you it's the thing to do. Sometimes you just make a bad decision, and it takes a while for you to admit it and move on.

There are the stores that are a lot like little country churches. When you drive up, you're not sure whether or not they're still in business until you go through the door. The signs are faded and sometimes in need of repair. There are only a few cars in the parking lot, and none are very fancy or new. The grass may need to be mowed, and the walls may need a new coat of paint. When you walk in, you know you'll find the basics. Someone to greet you with a nervous smile that says, "We hope you'll stay. We don't see many new faces around here, and probably don't have what you're looking for, but c'mon in." They don't have a big selection, but what they have is practical, predictable, and won't cost you an arm and a leg.

Then there are the mega-stores. Open at both regular and unusual hours to make sure you can get there when it's convenient. A steady stream of greeters waiting at the door to escort you wherever your heart desires, but keep you from going down the wrong hall. The selection is immense. If they don't have what you want this week (doubtful), next week's offerings are sure to please, just check back often! If you dare fill out a registration slip (no pressure, they don't want to scare you off), Email and glossy ads will fill your inbox and mail box so you know they are thinking of you and noticed you were there. When you go back the next week, though, they might greet you at the door like they've never seen you before in their life. There might be that one, though, who does remember your name and asks how you've been. You might stick around after all. You can eventually slip out unnoticed if you want to. They have people to watch your kids so you can really concentrate, and free coffee and cookies. It'll cost you a little more in the long run, and you'll probably see most of the same stuff here that you'd find at any mega-store, but if you decide it's the place, you'll eventually feel a connection on whatever level you choose.

Sometimes you show up at First Baptist Furniture. There's a kind of hush all over the world when you walk through the lovely doors into the tastefully decorated foyer. Men in suits handing out professional but sedate leaflets of information stand near the interior entry way into the holy of holies, where beautifully appointed seating lies under dim, but artfully directed lighting. Soft music plays in the background. If you are underdressed, everyone is very careful to ignore it, but you are completely aware of your faux pas. Everything says "quality" and "the same yesterday as today." Some spots are cordoned off with elegant velvet rope. You know you won't be trying out those seats without a special invitation. Someone will definitely talk to you, because you are an honored guest. They might, however, ask you questions that make you wriggle uncomfortably as you become aware of your lack of prior knowledge regarding their product and start to question your financial ability to meet the minimum requirements of hanging around here for long.

Finally, if you're like me, there is that place that is "just right." It's not too big, and not too crowded, and there are plenty of comfortable spots to hang for a while and check things out. The selection is eclectic. There are things you think are really cool and things that make you raise an eyebrow, but don't cause you to run away shrieking. The manager seems really down to earth. When you go home, you often smile when you recall some detail about your most recent visit. After a stopping by a time or two, it's kind of like Cheers—everybody knows your name. They think your kids are cute, but they also expect them to behave and not tear things up. They'll try hard to please, but recognize that the final choice is yours and respect it. Your decision to buy is sealed with a handshake or a happy dance—whatever your heart desires. The commitment might be a little out of your comfort zone, but you figure you can handle it. Signed, sealed, delivered, I'm yours. You might be disappointed on occasion, but you figure it's par for the course when you're dealing with human beings.

I'm sure there are lots of places in between and each one has its own body of believers who feel like they are at home. I have been a member of lots of different kinds of churches. They all have their good and not-so-good points. With a few exceptions here and there, they all really believe in their product. My church and my furniture store are somewhere in between mega, and "just right." We are happy, comfortable, and tired of shopping.