Life Adds Up To Something

from this morning's Ashland Times-Gazette

The invitation came by way of an e-mailed newsletter from an Ashland church, to remain nameless to protect the innocent. “We’ve been cleaning out our church closets and have items you can have for a small donation.” Since I’ve seen my fair share of the contents of church closets, I made a bee-line for the church basement, where I found rows of tables, covered with hundreds of object, a story in the making.

The first to catch my eye was a set of golf clubs, a bit dusty. Had one of the previous pastors given up chasing that dimpled ball down the fairway, or had he (they were men’s clubs) left them for his successor? Surely those golf clubs were privy to spiritual conversations and whispered prayers of all sorts.

There were many reminders of days gone by, similar to most every garage sale, although with a religious bent. The Bible on cassette tape. An assortment of slides, probably of missionaries in Papua New Guinea. Those giant visual aids so Sunday School children could sing a hymn each week, long before high-tech computer imagery invaded the sanctuary. Who would want any of these now?

There was also quite a nice set of quilted hangers. Perhaps they had held the assortment of bathrobes and sashes that comprise a church’s costume collection, or maybe choir robes. That thought took me back to the first Sunday I sang in the senior choir, slipping into my choir robe and ascending the steps to the balcony with such a sense of joy and accomplishment.

I’m curious as to the source of the four Vote Democrat plates. Were they an offering of repentance, or did a disgruntled parishioner donate them to the rummage sale when Bill Clinton was having issues? Was anyone brave enough to purchase them?

They also had an ancient eye exam kit, the kind where the E’s pointed in various directions. Perhaps the Lion’s Club met in the church basement and left it behind, or the church tested pre-schoolers in preparation for kindergarten. Who knows?

There was a box of assorted hotel soaps probably collected in the last century – you know, like so many other items you bring home and then end up throwing out ten years later. I really thought I might use it someday . . .

Some items had languished in the lost and found before they made their way to the church cupboard. I was always fascinated by the bizarre items in the Kroc Center lost and found. How could someone go home without their shoes or car keys – or their false teeth?  

A lone figure from a nativity scene rested on one of the tables, the baby Jesus abandoned by the rest of his entourage. It reminded me of when my mother helped clean out her church’s closets prior to a massive remodeling job. She came home cradling the baby Jesus doll, the veteran of years of Christmas pageants, then relegated to an upper shelf in the third floor storage closet. Jesus seemed a bit worse for wear, but my mother brought him home, freshened up his clothes, and let the grandkids play with him. That, my friends, can preach.

As I moved from table to table, I chuckled over the odds and ends of life assembled over the course of many years. Unless we follow Dave Bruno, with his 100 Thing Challenge and minimalist lifestyle, we’ve all got closets of junk (oops, I mean treasures), items long past their prime but held onto just because. Like the detritus of the church, our tucked away treasures tell the stories of service given to a community and family, of shared history, and of great joy, deep sorrow, and hopeful expectations.

In my narrow home office, I’m surrounded by similar reminders: the RJ Kroc Bobblehead, a Buffalo Bills magnet, artistic creations by the lovely Madelyn Simone, and the red porcelain shoe reminiscent of seminary days. One day they too will be relegated to the garage sale table or trash bin, but for now they remain as story-teller, reminding us, as Frederick Buechner noted, that “life adds up to something.”