The Passing of Time with Things….

In the Christmas Carol, there is a scene where Scrooge witnesses those pilfering and selling his possessions after his death. One of those who do so was his housekeeper. She steals his sheets and sells them, all the while, she has nothing good to say about him.

Estate sales remind me of this scene. Despite the fact that the items aren’t stolen, there is something personal about a man’s possessions, and when that man dies, his items are sold to the living, for the highest bid. What that man once gathered into his possession is once again scattered to the four winds, generally while his old friends and family look on, possibly bidding on a few items themselves.

KinDee was up at Gary Voshell’s estate sale today. It’s not the first estate sale that we’ve ever attended, but this one feels different. Maybe it’s because this man was from my town of Wadena? It might be because my uncle Mike Durnan told me that he went to school with Gary? Maybe it’s because Gary’s death was a sad one? Maybe it’s because some of these things that we bought were his tools, items that he used personally and that he knew personally? These are tools that in his head, he knew where he got them, where they were on his property, and he used them for work or pleasure. They were his possessions. They are now mine. I bought them and now I have a piece of Gary with me. I never knew the man.

It could also be because KinDee bought a few items that Gary built himself. A man seems most proud of those items that he took the time to think out, design, and create. They say more about a man that a screwdriver that he chooses from the hardware store, although that too says something about the man. All of this man’s earthly possessions were gone through and coldly sold. KinDee even said there was a junk pile where a lot of items, still in their wrappers with tags on them, had been thrown. Someone gave her permission to take what she wanted from the pile and she pulled out quite a bit. I wonder what Gary would have thought about these things that he purchased, being tossed into the trash. He had them for a reason.

Maybe it shouldn’t bother me; this has been the way things work for as long as I can remember. As a wee boy, I would accompany my father to estate sales. I’d usually go sit on the lawnmowers and pretend to drive them until the auctioneer got there to sell them. Even then, I got to experience someone else’s possessions for a little while. The people who died seemed really old to me. Maybe what bothers me about these sales is that the people that are dying are getting younger and younger, or maybe, if I’m not afraid to admit it, I’m getting older.

It’s a reminder that we cannot take it with us. In the end, possessions are possessions. Someday, someone may just toss them in the trash. It’s a reminder for us to build treasure in heaven where God assures us that neither thief nor moth can destroy it. Go ahead and enjoy your possessions while you’re here on earth, but realize, when you die, it’ll all be scattered to the four winds once again.