Sunday, July 16, 2006

Garage Sale

I wonder if there is anyone who really enjoys having a garage sale. I, for one, rarely go to them.

My daughter Sweet Pea and her husband wanted to have a garage sale. She started in on me several months ago, trying to elicit some interest on my part. “I don’t really have anything to sell,” I conveniently remember. “Come on, Mom. It will be fun. We’ll do it at my house; I’ll arrange everything. All you have to do is show up with whatever you want to sell. A few hours on Saturday, that’s all. Besides, I’ll need someone to help me watch the baby.” Now that’s hitting below the belt. I never can resist that lure. Ok, I decide. I’m in.

As the date for the sale approaches, I start thinking about what I might sell. I haven’t rustled up the energy to actually look for anything, though, so I tell myself that the thinking part is step one. It’s practically the hardest part of preparing for a sale, if you ask me, so I’m devoting several weeks to it.

With the sale less than one week away, I resolve not to put this off any longer. I spend a couple of days cleaning out closets, gathering items that I am going to put in my car, take to the sale, randomly assign a price that, according to my calculations, is less than 1% of what I paid for it, spend hours in a garage in July bartering with customers over the marked price versus what they want to pay. At the end of the sale, I will then box up whatever does not sell and transport it to Goodwill. I tell myself that any money I make will be more than I would have made that day had I stayed home. As the day nears, I’m still not excited about it. The garage sale stuff (that I didn’t know I had) has taken over the house.

The morning of the sale, I am wide awake at 4:00 am after four hours sleep. I head over to Sweet Pea’s before dawn to get everything ready for the 8:00 sale, knowing full well that professional garage sale shoppers usually arrive at least 30 minutes early. Our first customer walks in and heads straight back to the table where two televisions are. “How much for the TV’s?” She asks. My son-in-law looks at the TV’s pointedly as he says, “Well, this one is marked $20.00 and that one is marked $30.00.” “Will you take $20.00 for both?” she asks. He shakes his head. “No.” “You won’t take $20.00 for both?” “No ma’am. You are my first customer and I think these will be big selling items. The price is firm.” She storms off, and, I might add, returns a while later and buys both TV’s for the marked price. The second customer is from another country, a country where bartering in the marketplace is common and expected. She approaches me first with an item marked $10.00. “How much for this?” she asks. “I look at the price that is clearly marked on the item and pretend to think. “Hmmmm. Well, I guess I could take $5.00 for that,” expecting her to be grateful for the good deal I have just thrown her way. “Fifty cents.” she blurts. “Excuse me?” “Fifty cents.” she repeats a little louder. At this point, my son-in-law steps between us and says, “No. It is marked $10.00. That’s how much we’ll sell it for.” She points to me and says, “She say $5.00!” He looks at me questioningly. I nod, looking at the ground while pushing a rock around with my shoe. He turns back to her and sighs. “Ok, $5.00.” “Fifty cents!” she shouts. At this point, I manage to get real busy at the other end of the garage, so I don’t hear the rest of the exchange. However, he comes over to me a few minutes later. “If she asks you about anything else, send her to me. I’ll deal with her.”

As I look back, we actually had fun. In the morning there were many customers and energy was in the air. I was working with one customer, and another one shouted in my direction, “How much for this?” pointing at yet another item that was clearly marked. At the other end of the driveway, my son-in-law carried items to the car for a customer while someone stopped him to negotiate a price. Most of the morning, we had 12 or so customers at a time. Sweet Pea, who established early on that she does not do negotiations, was seated in front of the fan, manning the cash box while holding the baby. Hmmm. Looked like the old bait and switch trick to me. But, by noon, each one of us had a turn at the cash box. Turns out it was not such a cushy job after all, adding purchases and counting change while juggling a hot, tired, hungry, wet baby.

By afternoon, it was dead. I was slumped in a chair with my back to the sale and my face pressed into the grill of an industrial fan. Thinking I heard a customer, I yelled over my shoulder, “Everything’s negotiable!” My son-in-law, slouched in the chair next to me and drenched in sweat, added “Make me an offer!” But neither of us moved. We were worn out and completely vulnerable. We could have been talked down to anything.

As a Christian, I know I’m also most vulnerable when I am worn out spiritually, but not usually because I have been busy doing great things for others. Every time I get this way, it can always be tied to being disconnected from God. Not because He has moved further from me, but because I have neglected my relationship with Him. Yet, Jesus still offers to carry my load.

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls, for my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”
Matthew 11:28-30

5 comments:

Anonymous said...

Ah the fond memories of that wonderful sale! I am so glad that you found something positive from it all! I often find this to be so true that I am at my weakest when I have been disconnected from God. Makes me think of the wise man and the foolish man. If we are not planted on solid ground it will only be a matter of time before we sink. Thanks for your thoughts I look forward to future posts!

Christopher Green said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Christopher Green said...

One of the dangers of spiritual fatigue is the false sense of altruism that can come with it. I believe it is a subtle form of pride that assumes it is a sort of spiritual "badge of courage" to be outta gas. I thought Tim did a great job of bringing this truth out in Sampson's life. He caved in, because he was "tired to death."

I'm afraid I've figuratively "thrown any price" on my faithfulness at times and "sold out" because I was so tired. Pride then got the best of me because, somehow, I justified the sin by the fatigue. Ouch! Bad result!

Great thoughts and thanks for sharing them.

Arlene Kasselman said...

Becky
good to meet through Jim's blog. Thanks for stopping by mine!

Anonymous said...

Good job holding on the TV prices! ;-) I wish I was there to jump on the trampoline and bring in more customers.

Jackie Howell