Thursday, September 23, 2010


Yesterday was the auction at dan's grandfathers home.  All of their things, their lifetime of things, strewn all over the front lawn sorted into boxes.  The nicer things up on tables.  And the really 'fine' things on the tables with the black clothes. 

Funny that the things his grandparents would have considered 'fine' and the things the auctioneer assigned the title to were probably not the same items.  You know what I'm saying.  Handmade candle holder wall sconces presented by a zit covered teenager after shop class to one adoring trip to the dollar boxes on the lawn (which in fact no one even bid on).  Some glass piece of ho hum something or other that had been packed away in a closet somewhere forever and possibly no one really even knows where it came from...............front and center on the prime table. 

It's all just stuff.  But I attach emotion to stuff so things like this are difficult to me.  To see their kitchen table get drug away and thrown in a vehicle was hard.  Because it was THEIR kitchen table.  They played cards, served meals, sat and talked, papaw dozed, they gathered around it and participated in life.  And now that life is done and it is on to it's new home.  As we ate one last and final meal around it yesterday afternoon I felt a bit overwhelmed.

It's not that any of it was fine, breathtaking, rare or even fabulous.  But it was all theirs.  They were the items they used to live this life, their life.  And it just felt strange to see it all being sorted and touched by strangers.  Almost like we were intruders.  And it was hard to see what was 'valued' and what wasn't.

It is all just stuff.  And in my head I kept repeating the bible verse about not storing up your treasures on earth where moth and rust destroy.  Perhaps if Jesus were alive today, he would have given a parable about the man and woman who had all their treasures sorted into boxes that all sold for $1 each.  And how none of it matters at all once we leave this earth and enter our new lives after death.

It was still hard.  Perhaps because they are not here any longer.  Maybe that was why it was hard because they no longer require their rake, skillet, makes it more real that they are in fact gone.

I forgot my camera.  And I think I'm actually kind of glad.  It makes me sad to remember the small gathering of folks who came out with their umbrellas in hand to shell out cash for the life long collections of Leroy and Mary Goble.  And although I am grateful that they all did, and in turn helped us as the family to begin the process of eliminating earthbound treasures, I just don't want to see it again.

There is no need to save your stuff.  No need to hoard it away for some reason.  No reason to keep something that you do not love or receive enjoyment from.  I am on a mission to fill my house with only things that I really enjoy.  Special family vases, china passed down from family, a special souvenier that revives a memory of a piece of time, handpainted statues- perfect items to fill your space with.  All the rest of it is out of here.  I want only my personal 'black clothe table' items left.  Which in fact will end up in someones dollar box someday.

1 comment:

Dan said...

Do not grieve for the loss of these things as my grandpa would have given them to anyone who asked for them. I am sad to see it all go but happy at the same time. It is yet another sign that their life has begun again fresh, new, and in awe of their savior.