This weekend, I took part in the community yard sale—my first time since moving in three and a half years ago. Friday was reserved for residents, with shopping open from 8 a.m. to 2 p.m., and on Saturday, the sale opened up to the public. Over the last week or more, I was able to unpack some of the boxes that have been sitting since I moved in. I knew it would be mentally difficult, but the accomplishment would be worth the pain.
I thought there might be a bigger crowd, but I was glad to meet everyone who stopped by whether they came by on-foot, golf cart, car or truck. I was able to meet another close neighbor and learn about the addition they built on their house. I marveled at the craftsmanship, and how it blends in seamlessly. It was also nice to participate along with my neighbors on either side. I didn’t see as much traffic as anticipated, but the experience was still a good step in the right direction. Even though the money is much needed, and I am thankful I sold enough to cover next week's shortage, the real reward was in the interactions as well as the stories other shared with me. I can and will talk people's ears off, unintentionally, of course!
I listened intently as a woman told me she just moved into the Ocala National Forest, I would have loved to hear more about her journey. I sold a trivia game to a couple that was going to participate in a game night, but didn't have a lot of board game knowledge. I was so happy someone wanted the free personal care items that were opened, not good enough to sell, but too good to throw away. A woman bought a set of dominoes from me, but one domino was left behind. I was grateful she saw my post about the fallen domino and came to pick it up. I completely messed up by inviting her in the house to come through to the garage which I thought the door was still up, it wasn't. I didn't get too flustered, thanks to her recommending exiting through the small door in my garage. This is how the universe should run, but rarely does. I already attached meaning to the double-four domino.
There was also a group of ladies that were really supportive. When I handed them each one of my cards and explained my new blog site—a lot of mental health information. Right now, I explained, it is a lot about my journey, but I hope my posts will inspire and empower others to share their own stories. It was quite overwhelming talking to so many at once, but I feel like i did well powering through it. A therapist in this group volunteered to check on the availability of a free program in her community that she feels would benefit me. After a few laughs, I wished them a wonderful day, and got ready to welcome others.
As people came and went, it became more about the connection and even less about the money. One woman was looking at two beach towels. The conversation ended in a sale, but went like this when she asked, "how much are the towels?" I replied, "three dollars," and she responded, "one dollar each?" I clarified, "No, three dollars each," She laughed, paid three dollars, took both towels, and joked, "I even have my hearing aids in." Several things crossed my mind after she left. Intrusive thoughts were trying to tell me I was scammed out of three dollars, but in my heart, I know I wasn't. Secondly, I don't know if in the moment, I didn't have the courage to speak up and say, "Sorry, those are three dollars each," or if I just instantly had empathy for her. I'm really happy thinking each time she uses the towels at the pool, she will smile—knowing she got a good deal.
Many people had arm, leg, knee, foot, and ankle braces. I would typically ask what happened or why they had a brace, but I made a concerted effort to hold back and not ask too many questions. Some walked with canes and others had walkers. I carried an item out to someone's golf cart and saw such a beautiful walker, I had to ask her about it. I was curious if it was custom made because it was pink, and some of the bars were covered in a flowery print. She let me know it was a Nova walker, and I let her know it was the coolest walker I had ever seen. I looked it up, and found it is reasonably priced. Let's hope I don't ever need it, however, I was happy to learn there are options out there besides the typical aluminum colored walkers available at most pharmacies.
I was selling a ring holder that I have had for over thirty years, and a customer picked it up, admired it and asked me if it was bisque. I had heard of the word, but had no idea what it means. I thought to myself, unfired clay? She commented, "it probably is, it feels like it," and proceeded to tell me why she really didn't need to buy it, but it reminded her of one she used to own.. I was eager to listen and by the time she was finished, I could really empathize with her and her situation in a number of different ways. I still don't know what bisque is, and if I tab out to look it up, I will forget what I am doing, get up from the computer, and be distracted for hours again. "Stay focused, stay focused."
I would like to note, while people are talking to me, even though I am very interested in our interaction, my mind can hop all around, get stuck on a thought, or be overloaded with voices echoing in my head. While I'm listening, even if I hear and understand the words, some details often don’t get stored in memory. It takes a lot of energy and concentration to stay focused, and even more to remember the task is to stay focused.! Try listening to "stay focused" on repeat for any length of time. I just realized, I remind myself constantly to stay focused, yet the reminders always fade away within minutes.
Back to the lady and the ring holder! Briefly, her story started off with her sharing with me how her husband's funeral was ruined and the Moose Lodge stepped up. She followed this with her tragic story of losing her husband during the pandemic. She took him to the ER back when no visitors were allowed inside—she never saw him again. Things can change that quickly. Now I am thinking, as my romantic brain will do, 'she doesn't need the ring holder because she no longer wears her ring, and it is stored away, treasured forever—aww, so sweet.' I was so wrong. She told me she didn't need the ring holder because a handyman working in her house stole her ring. She didn't buy it, and as she left, I wondered if she had support to help her through the darkest days.
Immediately when I saw the next customer walking up the driveway, cheerful energy filled my entire space. I cautiously asked, do you mind if I ask you sort of a personal question, "are you artistic?". She said, "no." I was like, "really?? I was so sure you were into art!" She told me about doing arts and crafts, and a paint & body shop, and making jewelry. I blurted out, "I knew it! I knew you were an artist" She said, "Oh, I thought you asked if I was autistic." I told her I was and that is probably why I ask these questions. We laughed. I told her I loved artists and she agreed.
By this time, I had started formulating the idea for my next blog post—this one—my participation in the yard sale and the people I met. Her story was moving—filled with both sorrow and encouragement, heartbreaking yet inspiring. She has six sisters and her only brother passed away. She was married, but lost her husband. She is the oldest in a set of triplets—if I got the math correct. She said they all talk to each other all the time. I let her know the coincidence of me having six brothers, although I didn't have any sisters, and I don't talk to my brothers, but we came from a similar size family.
She told me how Gerber sponsored her family when she was born, as a triplet, with a year's supply of some baby items. She spoke of her mother turning down an opportunity for the triplets to be the Gerber baby. She learned the baby chosen instead by Gerber owns one of the local UPS stores There was no bitterness or jealousy, just a quiet curiosity about what might have been, for everyone, if her mother had said yes. I understood. We talked about work ethic and family values, hardships and compassion.
After listening and being very intrigued, I gave her a card and asked if I could mention her story in my post I will be writing. I asked her if she would consider writing her own story for me to publish on this blog. Before she left, she made it a point to come all the way around the table to give me a hug. Until that point, I was oblivious to the fact that several people were now browsing the items on the driveway and in the garage. I really enjoyed our chat, and I hope she will consider sharing her story, here or elsewhere.
After some of these encounters, I knew I had been given a gift. I may be too forward, I might be too curious, my mental illness may flare up in unexpected ways, I may talk too much, but my experiences, as well as God's guidance, have molded me into who I am today. I take every chance to grow and through pure faith and perseverance, I continue to work through any obstacles that may arise. Looking back, it was a great weekend—despite the fact that I would have loved to share my victory with someone.
As I was cleaning up from the sale, I almost tore up some of my blog cards, where I had written prices on the back. I paused, realizing it would be better to toss them whole, in case someone might come across one, find my blog, and—be inspired, encouraged, and uplifted, or perhaps gain purpose, curiosity, or insight. Whether the purpose of this blog is to help me find financial relief and settle my thoughts, or to support others in their needs, I hope it reaches the right people, if it is God's will.
Romans 12:13 Share with the Lord’s people who are in need. Practice hospitality.
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