I'm a thrift store junky. If you asked my husband if I had an addiction, he would have to site my need to visit a thrift store - any thrift store - every other day or so to get my fix. It doesn't have to be a ton of things that make me happy there. It can just be one or two little things. A china tea cup, missing from its set, it comes home with me - because it's China. Who cares if I never use it? I can now say I have China. A novel that I never would've bought new suddenly becomes do-able because, heck, it's only a buck. An electric wok! -For only $5- and the best part of the electric wok is that it has uncleanable black burn marks in the bottom. That way, no matter how many times I burn things in it I can say to all the witnesses..."that wasn't from me...that was already there." (It looks like new when I put the lid on...wah la - no more burn marks.) I fell in love with my first pair of Dansko shoes at a Salvation Army. I remember seeing them, brown, suede, worn, kind of ugly, but intriguing. When I slipped them on, I knew they were something special. I bought them, wore them home and googled the name. "Danskos". They were Italian clogs and none were available for less than one hundred dollars. Oh the joy that filled my soul. Dansko Italian Clogs...$100 shoes for a buck fifty. And so began my addiction. My son started annoucning proudly to friends that he got his latest Spiderman tshirt at the Salvation Army. I was a little embarrassed...I thought it might invoke some to pity us...not realizing the pure joy it brought me to buy a Spider man tshirt for 50 cents.
"Elijah, guess what!" I asked him. He was around five at the time.
"What?"
"They renamed the Salvation Army. They don't call it that anymore," I lied.
"Really?" he asked.
"Yes, now they call it Macy's. Isn't that nice? Do you like your new shirt from Macy's?" I asked.
He fell for it for a while but didn't understand why they never changed their sign. Eventually he told people his shoes, shirt, etc. came from that store that used to be called Salvation Army. The gig was up.
My daughter has been equally scarred by my addiction. Just yesterday we found a pair of L.L. Bean flip flops. $1.99. Not my size, but hers. In the car, I insist she put them on and wear them into Chik Fil A.
"Ma, what's so great about them? They're just flip flops," she inquires.
"No honey, they're expensive. They're nicely made. They're L.L. Bean flip flops," I try to convey to her the joy she should feel. It doesn't work.
"They are cutting into the top of my feet," she complains.
"SHUT UP AND WEAR THEM. THEY'RE LL BEAN DO YOU HEAR ME? YOU WILL WEAR THEM TILL YOU CAN'T FEEL YOUR FEET...AND THEN I'LL CARRY YOU WHILE YOU WEAR THEM!" Of course I was kidding and the eruption of laughter from the back seat was followed by Elijah's best impression of me.
"Wear them till you bleeeeeeed!!!!!!!!!!" he bellowed in his best crazy-mom voice. She was back in her Converse before we got home.
You can find things at a Thrift store that you can't find anywhere else. Where else would you shop for the 80's themed birthday party you were invited to? And old music - ohhh the old music. I have a friend named Rick Elias, a musician. I was once at a thrift store in Alabama when I saw his CD from the early 90's on the shelf. He was sporting a fierce mullet and I smiled when I saw him there. I left him a wall post: "Dude, you were at a thrift store beside Patsy Cline!" He was delighted. I stopped short of telling him that he was only 25 cents. I also didn't disclose that I passed him over in favor of a gum ball, but that's not the point, the point is - he was beside Patsy Cline....nice!
Ultimately I think I love thrift stores because they remind me of my relationship with God. I can't resist junk because I know I have so much in common with it. Who among us has not been reshelved? Used? Worn? Tired? Broken? In need of a good wash? But God saw me and thought to himself, "What a deal!"
He bought me and took joy in His purchase.
A second chance.
Good Will Indeed.
