I LOVE garage sales. I have been known to get up at 6am to be the first to arrive when the door goes up. If you are ever at my house, look around--I'll bet that half of my home decor was pre-purchased. Honestly, does a designer vase or occasional table really "wear out?"
I also love consignment stores. Ditto, Plato's Closet, Clothes Mentor, Mary Margaret's (in Lee's Summit) and Gypsy Vardo (in Lexington) are among my favorite places to shop. I will admit that the girl in Plato's closet looked at me a little funny when I entered the "teen" resale store with Maryn in her baby carrier, but after about 10 minutes of shopping and talking, I had scored some digits for a new babysitter. I don't mind--I remember how much disposable income I had as a teenager with my first job (when rent and utilities were expenses that had not yet invaded my budget), and I am more than happy to pick up teen's barely worn designer jeans at Wal-Mart prices. I have been know to wear a thrift store dress to a couple of black-tie charity events with no one the wiser. Even my cars were owned by others before me.
Why am I obsessed with pre-owned stuff? For one thing, I have a bit of a shopping problem and this keeps me closer to my budget. Jim has a hard time believing I can buy 10 pairs of jeans to his 2 pairs, but it's the truth. I don't really care about "new," but"new to me" can really brighten my day. Also, call me a romantic dreamer--but I like to think about where the item has been before it made its way into my home. Has my charity-event dress already been to prom? Has my thrift-store bracelet been on a first date? And I LOVE the challenge of repurposing something for another use.
The coffee table in my hearth room is actually a 100-year old carpenter's chest. If the kids juice boxes were pushed aside and the lid was lifted, inside are wooden boxes and tools that were used for a much less domestic purpose than the life it is living now. I am sure that it rode in a buggy or two, accompanying a woodworker from one exciting job site to another. And now it sits completely motionless in my hearth room, its travels over.
However, it is no longer confined to a single role as a carpenter's chest. It has become a rest for coffee mugs during the most joyous family events. It is currently serving as a pull-up bar as Maryn learns how to walk. It has served as a stage when Will has decided that he needs to be a little taller to act out his stories for the rest of the Godfrey clan. It is the "out of bounds" marker for our Wii nights when Pryor gets too close to the TV for my comfort. It has been extra seating when our circle of friends overflows and fills our home with love. Every scratch on that chest is a memory, every stain a priceless reminder of an event that has made this family what it is.
Much like my closest friends, every pre-owned item in my home has a history, a life outside of the one that brought it to me. A series of events brought it into my life, and has given me joy. At this point in life, we're all "pre-owned." We all have lived through circumstances and events that have left us feeling used, scratched and stained. However, like my coffee table--if we're lucky, those circumstances have led us to a place where they become priceless battle scars, lessons learned, memories that have made us who we are and have given us moments of joy. And become treasures among the discarded, the unwanted, the unloved.
Thank you, friends, for scooping me up and inviting me into your homes, even with my stains and scars. Thank you for the purpose of our friendship. Thank you, Lord, for buying all of us "pre-owned," I hope we give you joy. Perfection in our imperfections. Perfection in the chaos.
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