May 22nd, 2021
Awakened by a little white pup begging to begin her day before the sun woke up.. Zero concept of sleeping in on Saturdays…
There I sat on the porch deck, wrapped in a light shawl, coffee in hand (barely brewed), staring at the sun approaching the horizon just beyond the wisteria. 5:20am - Saturday.
Nellie - fully alive and well, hunting squirrels and rabbits all over the garden!
Andrei invited me to join him on one of his most sacred of journeys - Saturday morning flea marketing. In the past, I’ve apparently whined and complained a few too many times about various conditions (ranging from temperature, cleanliness, boredom, and lack of coffee) - so I’ve been “banned” from attending this most sacred weekly jaunt.
Today, however… I was invited. Hmmm… I brewed extra coffee, wore layers, packed wipes, and most importantly - a positive attitude.
I actually found quite a few treasures. A huge wooden shipping crate dating back at least a hundred years, a beautiful African copper figurine, and two mint-condition wrought iron sconces. Total bill $21-
There I was, walking side by side with my husband, perusing tables and tarps, and actually enjoying myself in his little slice of heaven.
There we were, walking side by side with a hundred year old box between us, an African figurine as our mascot, and two heavy sconces rattling around in the bottom of the box - $21 lighter enjoying one another.
No fanfare, not showered, nothing fancy, not scheduled…
Sometimes some of the most special memories we’ve had together are ones like today. When the stars align themselves in such a way …
Or maybe it’s not really so much about the stars - but rather an intentional leaning in… A disciplined practice of coming to the table fully present, full of grace- seeking to fulfill one another’s needs above our own.
The shipping crate has made an excellent side table in the living room. It already has cell phones charging on top - plugged into a nearby outlet.
I have the box set in such a way that I can clearly see the old calligraphy writing on the outside from where I stand at the sink. The writing is an address for someone in Massachusetts.
I don’t know the history or story behind what traveled all the way to Massachusetts in such a large box so very long ago…
But one thing I do know… after Massachusetts, at some point, it ended up in one of the most unlikely places for me to have found it.
And tucked away - behind the fancy calligraphy writing, a beautiful, unexpected, and simple memory of togetherness found its way home.
In a shipping crate, at a flea market, on a Saturday, in the blazing sun… It's just like God to send this kind of plan my way…
… of finding joy in places I don’t particularly prefer.
