Learn to love

I feel like I have to tell the long story, because it’s cool how this blessing came about.

Last week, I went thrifting with Maria and Becky. It was at that time that I told the girl “if you buy a shirt made of polyester, I’ll make you a flower and keep the surplus fabric.” Nellie-who-makes-potholders overheard my little proposal, and, excited by the prospect of chatting with a fellow crafter, chimed into the conversation. She queried me about my business, then told me about her own (the potholders).

I was in kind of a hurry, because it was 30 minutes till closing. I really needed to get some fabric, and get a deal. You gotta get thrift store cashiers in the right mood if you want to haggle. Trying to haggle five minutes before closing is a no-no.

Anyways.

She started talking at Maria, and told me to examine a wedding dress so I could pick off supplies. It was an $150 dress, so of course I wasn’t going to buy it, but this was my moment to escape the conversation.

Nellie chatted with Maria for a while longer, and I felt a little guilty about how I had treated the situation. Maria had really taken an interest in this lady. She listened attentively as Nellie repeated that she “only makes pot holders in one side” and reacted enthusiastically to Nellie’s list of sports-related fabric patterns. I was intrigued.

In his book Blue Like Jazz, Donald Miller said, “…sometimes you have to watch somebody love something before you can love it yourself…” This quote has been repeating in circles on the bright LCD screen in my brain. As I watched Maria, her love for this complete stranger was contagious and convicting. She showed me how to care.

So I listened to Nellie. Nellie lives alone in the boonies. She sews potholders on her one hundred year old Singer that her father had purchased for 30 dollars in Kissimmee. She worked out at the Wild Life Refuge, but now her income comes from Social Security and her potholders. When she can’t sleep, she sews. She’s lonely. She gave Maria her number, and asked that we call her if we need any potholders, or want to help her cut fabric.

And that’s Nellie.

The next day, I went to another thrift store and struck up a conversation with the owner. Determined to get to know this lady, I asked her questions about the shop and she told me everything there was to know about the store. It was a God-inspired operation. Before managing at the shop, she did estate sales. That’s how she met the owner of the De Ja Vu Salon in Downtown. After the owner of that place passed away, this lady—I forgot her name! Let’s call her Pat—took on their inventory and is selling it for the widower. He wants to “take back his garage” and Pat is enthusiastic about helping him.

After we parted ways, I felt a fresh wave of caring for humanity. Its surprising how out of touch I had gotten.

I told Danielle about the thrift store that sold the boutiques old inventory, and she suddenly (urgently) asked if this beaded top was at the thrift shop. I’d remembered running my hands through the beaded draping, taking pleasuring in the cool, heavy beads. Yes, yes it was.

The next day, Danielle and I went back. The shirt was there and was selling for $74. A little expensive if you asked me. And Danielle only had $40 cash. So we haggled. I told Pat about Danielle’s cash situation, and Pat said if I pay the tax she’d let Danielle have the shirt for $40. A 1920s original flapper top for $40s. $40. (I feel the need to say it again, because I never type of the $ symbol).$$$$

And that’s the long of it.