…Naked came I out of my mother's womb, and naked shall I return thither: the LORD gave, and the LORD hath taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD.--Job 1:21
Through a miscommunication with Public Storage, I lost the bulk of my personal belongings via lien sale. So every earthly thing I have is in my apartment with me. The bad news: I lost many items which had sentimental value: my great-aunt’s old crystal stemware, her cast-iron skillets, and a file of sentimental papers—e.g. a hand-made card from the child of an old friend. But the only thing I’m really alarmed about is the fact that I lost one of my old laptops which had a lot of information on it. I lost my cedar desk and file cabinet. I lost the old-school stereo that I tried to sell for months; years if you go all the way back to 2013.
I lost my Great Book volumes…and most of my clothing, including a set of Saks Fifth Avenue short boots which I bought in 1985. Sixty dollar they cost, which I thought was a fortune then. They earned their keep, however, and served me well for thirty years, so I can’t complain too much about that. I hope another lady likes them as much as I did.
Blessedly, I removed most of my personal papers from the unit a while back, and not a few other items of sentimental value.
But, yes, I cried my eyes out when I found out.
This is not a plea for replacement, but a musing on Things. I spent a lot of time--and money--trying to keep my property. But now it’s not mine and I’m looking around at the Things I still “have” and think these things can be taken also, even the clothes I’m wearing and the laptop I’m using to type this. If the new owner of “my” things is unscrupulous, my very identity can be sold and besmirched.
I’m done crying about it or even worrying about it, however. As it happens, I had been praying hard in the last few days, asking God to show me what He wanted me to do for His Kingdom while I’m still on earth. I don’t know, but I think He’s letting me know that there are more important things to give my time to than worrying about how to keep the things which will eventually rot and rust.
I’m not going to lie; this is very painful. But I learned a long time ago that, sometimes, God’s blessings don’t always feel too good. As a matter of fact, those which really sting at the beginning are usually the ones which, in hindsight, have the most long-lasting benefit.
I want to thank all of you who, over the last year, tried to help me keep my stuff. I hope you don’t think you wasted your money. If it helps at all, you taught me that many of you care about the things which cannot be taken away and you taught me about love and friendship. And family.
God bless all of you.