An Orphan Commits

This week, I attended a group meeting dedicated to discussing my becoming a member of my church. Eight people were in attendance, plus me. Three hours of talking about myself. Wow. I can't believe how well I handled it. I talked about my family, past relationships, and a whole lot of painful stuff. I hardly cried. It was amazing.

I have endured a lot of suffering in my life. It's ridiculous really to have to tell other people about it. It seems catastrophic to hear it all for the first time, and then I have to look away so I don't re-feel those crazy emotions all over again through other people. That happened at the meeting. I had to look away from concerned faces so as not to catch anyone's sad eyes for too long.

In the car on the way home, my friend said that she had heard something I say often in a new way. "I want to keep things from being thrown away" is what I say when asked about my vocation, or purpose in life. My friend said that she had realized that in addition to thrifting maniacally, I also refuse to throw away my past. Even though I hate to talk about it, my past makes me who I am today. I am inextricably linked to the pain of my childhood. Throwing it away, or pretending that it doesn't exist, would take away what makes me, me.

Being thrown away as a child keeps me in tune with people who are thrown away, with people who are ignored and invisible. In my day to day existence, this makes me love thrift, but in my soul, it makes me love the orphan, the widow, and the alien.

For the Lord your God is God of gods and Lord of lords, the great God, mighty and awesome, who is not partial and takes no bribe, who executes justice for the orphan and the widow, and who loves the strangers, providing them with food and clothing.

-Deutoronomy 10:17-18 (NRSV)

After two months of trying to sell these sandals, I was days away from putting them in my thrift store donation bag. But then, this morning, out of nowhere, they sold. And I was reminded of my need for patience, in the face of not getting my way, not to keep the sandals from reentering the recycling cycle, but to keep me from thinking that it is my job alone to keep things from being thrown away. In the end, it's God's job, and God promises to get the job done.