Crystal Bowl for cheap

I was planning to follow along on Hope*writers prompt challenge this week, but I'm late to the party! Today's prompt was CONNECT.

Crystal Bowl For Cheap

I stood at the corner of two dusty roads in that tiny town, holding out an exquisite crystal bowl as an invitation to a car driving slowly by. The contrast of the dirt and the crystal was not lost on me, and as they kept on driving, I was hit by a realization that changed my perspective from that day onward.

It had been a lovely fall day that Saturday - the kind of day that started out chilly enough for a hoodie, and ended up hot enough that the old records on display started to warp in the warm sun. As the family pulled out tables to set up and carried boxes from the old bus where they were all stored, we quickly worked up a sweat and had to shed our sweaters.

It was our long-awaited estate sale day. My father-in-law had passed away earlier that spring, and in a way I felt like our collective mourning couldn’t really progress until we were able to process his possessions. He was a collector, and saved many things to give to someone or to fix up for someone. We didn’t know the stories behind all the items, but his generosity and care for others was evident in the items we found.

The usual items came out first - kitchen items, older electronics, framed pictures, tools, and buckets of screws and nails. We didn’t price anything really, and let people make an offer, knowing that our main goal was to pass these items along to someone else who could use them.

As the day progressed, we continued to unpack more boxes to set items out. I remember opening a box that looked like it had been taped up long ago. It just said Hazel on the outside of the box. My heart skipped a beat. My husband’s mother Hazel had died when he was just 8, in 1979. I opened the box and saw the newspaper that wrapped the items inside was from June 1980, the time they had to move out of their home and relocate. They hadn’t ever been unpacked. I suppose it would be too painful. I paused, feeling like I could make a tiny connection with that time in the life of this family I had come to love so much. We opened several boxes that were similar. Most were beautiful ceramics, in a special style. One of the garage sale shoppers told us she was a ceramics teacher and that their mom had beautiful technique and had some pieces that would have been very difficult to successfully create. There was a tea set and vases and serving bowls and many other beautiful items. The three families loaded what sentimental things we could fit into our vehicles, but there were still many valuable items left over as the end of the day was nearing.

We started asking people to please take things for a dollar or even for free. It felt almost wrong to be parting with these valuable items in such a casual manner when they had meant so much to him. It was a sort of desperation I think we felt as the day went on - we had set many hopes as a family on that day to finally sort out these items and find them homes.

As I stood on the street offering a crystal bowl to a random stranger, I realized with convicting clarity that the only thing that lasts in this world when we are gone are the connections we make. All of us at the estate sale loved him. Exquisite crystal bowls and even handmade ceramic treasures paled in comparison to the ways we remembered he cared about us. That’s the only truly valuable thing he left us, and that’s enough. It’s more than enough. I hope he knew that.

That event shaped the way I live my life. I remind myself often that possessions come and go, and that we can’t take things with us when we are done on this earth. At times when I am tempted to gather more things, I try to remember that connection is all that matters. It matters most in my work, in my family, in my online presence, in my daily routines. I would hazard a guess that connecting is the answer to the majority of this world’s problems. I still need this reminder often, but it’s a value I make an effort to cultivate and treasure in my life - connections are the only thing that matters in the end.

Thanks Dad.