Estate Sale

Do you do the yard sale thing? If you can resist those bright flourecent posters on the street corners with arrows pointing the way we need to go , you are a stronger person than I am. Those signs point us to yard sales, garage sales, and of course carport sales. No one is really selling their yard, garage, or carport. That is just where the sale is going to be that the sign directs us to. My son and I always go and find so much that we just can't live without. When I get home and unload all our treasures, I always ask somethng like , "What did I say this would match?", or "Who did I think this would fit?", or "Where in the world will I put this?".I then tell my son that we will never do this again. You know when next Saturday rolls around we will both be up at six am again, ready to hit the road once more, ready to go on another treasure hunt.

Last Saturday I went to my first ever "estate sale". I thought when I first got there it was just another yard sale. I saw the things in the yard and the garage and the carport. A lady then smiled and said, "There's more inside, everything is for sell". I went inside and found she wasn't kidding about the "everything" part. In the front room there were price tags on sofas, chairs, and tables. There was a sticker on lamps, shelves, tvs, and radios. On those shelves were all kinds of what-nots, figurines and plaques, like I myself have so many of that kids, grand kids, and friends have given me over the years. I saw bears and dogs, angels and crosses, flowers and ribbons, plaques and trophies. I started to feel a little strange thinking of how these reminded me of my own brick a brack on my shelves at home.

I moved on to the next room in the house. I walked into a big kitchen with bright sunflowered wallpaper. There were prices on the table and the chairs. The appliances, hutch,and even the heater on the wall , had a price tag. For sell were the pots and pans, well worn from alot of cooking done by someone in this very kitchen. There was a sign on the cabinet doors telling one to look inside, "everything is priced". Again I begin to feel a little funny, as if I were going through someone's cupboards when they had turned their back for a moment, or had gone to the next room.

I move now on to the final rooms, two bedrooms. Everything was, as in the other rooms, priced. There was a price on the bed , dresser, and chest. On the bed priced to sell were pillows.comforters, quilts, and sheets. On the dresser was a jewelry box full of beads and braclets, rings and hair bows. As I looked on all this, I became increasingly uncomfortable as if I were invading someone's privacy On a chest was an envelope that had "do not bend", written with a magic marker.Beside the pictures was a plaque someone had given for a birthday saying, "You're on your way over the hill". That is when tears came to my eyes and I knew it was time to go. I was so sad as I realized this had all been an important part of someone's life. Now here it was for everyone to look at with a price sticker stuck on each item.

I found my son who had a fishing pole priced 1.00, that he had found in the garage. I myself was holding a laquered plaque with roses surrounding the Ten Commandments. No matter how much I paid, I felt wrong taking it, a little like a thief. I heard a little voice somewhere say "take it and hang it where someone will see it who might need to read those commandments". It was probably just me trying to ease my own conscious because I felt uncomfortable about buying any of this. I hated not to buy some little something, you know, the people at the sale had been real friendly toward us. I found the lady to pay and asked her whose "estate" this was. She told me this had been the home of her grandmother who passed away a couple of months ago. I wondered how many of those what-nots she had probably asked to play with when she was a child. I wondered how many her grandmother had let her play with on that kitchen table while she was cooking for her in those well worn pots and pans.

As we were leaving, I told my son, "Don't you ever do me this way". I told him, "If you don't want my stuff pack it all up in boxes and give it to a charity". I don't want strangers coming in my home and picking through what's left behind of my life here on earth, with a price sticker on each piece. I know all my "treasure" here will be left for someone do with as they wish, I hope not this. It just seems a little disrespectful to me.

It has become clearer than ever to me, how unimportant my treasure I collect on this earth really is.

Matthew 6:19 Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon the earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where theives, break through and steal.

I know where my true treasure lies.

Matthew 6:20 But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth, nor rust doth corrupt, and where theives do not break through and steal.

I hope the lady who once owned this treasure on earth is in heaven and I will meet her one day. I'll tell her thanks for the ten commandment plaque that I hung in my kitchen. I read it everyday to remind myself my real treasure is in heaven with my Lord who said,

"If you love me keep my commandments."

By Judy Parker
November 22, 2003