Last time, I wrote about leaving a little room to hear someone else.

At my first estate sale, I wondered whether an object might have something to say, too.

Before Charlotte and I got out of the car, I prayed:

“God, let my life be for the highest good of all.”

I also asked to find the object that wanted to find me

We joined the line in the heat. I had worn long sleeves. Apparently, my spiritual preparation had exceeded my practical preparation.

Someone mentioned the expensive dresses inside. A monarch flew past us, and for a moment Charlotte and I had something else to look at.

An estate sale is a strange way to meet someone. You walk through rooms full of things they chose to keep, with so little of the story that made them worth keeping.

I picked up a vase. It was pretty. I tried to want it.

Then I put it back.

I could admire something and leave it where it was. This felt like useful information to acquire before entering another room full of things for sale.

Behind a dusty lawn mower, beautiful cursive caught my eye.

Someone had written on the back of a frame.

I picked it up and wiped away the dust. A message from one sister to another.

Someone had held this same object and thought of someone she loved.

I stood there holding it, too.

Charlotte suggested I turn it around.

On the front:

You are a daughter of the King.
You are a bright and beautiful light.
Shine on.

I had asked for something to speak to me. Now I was reading words that had never been written for me, wondering how they had managed to reach me anyway.

I bought the frame.

Also a bin of hangers and pink scrubs. The experience remained committed to being an estate sale.

The frame came home with me. I keep thinking about the moment I turned it over.

How much I would have missed if I had only looked at the front.

❤