If I Believed in Karma

I don’t believe in Karma as a religious concept.

In fact, I lean in the complete opposite direction – as in we get something (grace) that we didn’t do a THING to earn (because it’s a gift). Of course, my goal as a Christian is to live and love like Jesus. But everything I am given in return is because of God’s grace alone and not because of my good works. Amen and amen.

Boom! You just got theologically flash mobbed.

But there are times when things happen to me or around me that would lend themselves to a type of Karma. Maybe we’ll just call it poetic justice.

Yes, I like poetry…of the Dr. Seuss variety. And I like justice…of the Law & Order SVU marathon variety.

So we’ll stick with poetic justice.

Well, I got a big, fat helping of poetic justice aimed in my direction this week. Actually, I was on the other end of it. The end you don’t want to find yourself on if you believe in things like Karma.

Which I do not.

Anyhow, I’ll explain now before you start to scratch out your retinas with all these disclaimers.

I went to T.J. Maxx last Wednesday – Halloween – to grab a few (hundred) items.

I picked up a thin, orange sweater that I thought would be a great addition to my fall wardrobe. It’s been downright warm here in Alabama, so I needed (relative term) some lightweight pieces.

And as I pushed my way through the junior knitwear section (don’t judge), I encountered a woman who took one look at MY orange sweater and said,

WHERE did you find that sweater? I’ve been in here for an hour looking for an orange sweater! I think you got the ONLY one!

And it’s not that I had already pictured myself in that sweater or anything. I didn’t yet have big plans for us.

But there was something about the way she almost accused me of hoarding orange sweaters that awakened the four year old in me.

And I replied,

Hmmm. That stinks. I got it over there.

And pointed to the junior clearance aisle.

She stormed away in an obvious hurry to get to her Halloween party where only orange sweaters were permitted, and I continued on my merry way.

Fast-forward to this evening. My husband was engaged in one of the sexiest things I can possibly imagine:  folding laundry.

He picked up MY orange sweater and said,

I love this sweater on you.

I’ve only worn it twice, but my hubby notices stuff like that. Yeah, I’ll keep him.

And then he said,

Uh oh. Is this hole supposed to be there?

And THAT is poetic justice.

I should have just given it to the poor woman in such desperate need of an orange sweater. So then I wouldn’t have to sit here and remind myself that it cost me $8 each of the two times I wore it.

Also, I would feel like a better person.