So, it’s Wednesday.  

I’m a Wednesday volunteer at the local, right down the street, Thrift Shop.

There’s a paid worker, sitting on one of the rockers for sale eating Tacos because……she’s hungry.

Her name is Helen…..Hungry Helen.

There’s a teeny pregnant young woman on her cell-phone with how many fighting kids, I have no idea but I heard her say that they’re driving her nuts!  

Oh how I remember!! 

She’s working off jail time in the Thrift Shop.

There’s two young girls sitting outside on the curb sipping Starbucks and there’s a “bag Nazi” standing near the register making sure I don’t use one of the bags she just brought in when I make a sale. 

I guess they’re just for her.  

OK!

I think all three of them are doing the same thing…..jail or volunteer work!

I’ve never been in a Thrift Shop until now.

There’s a comical side to my day here but there’s also a very tender side.  

I watch the different people who come in.

A gentleman and a woman who looks like his mom and a little girl who looks like her granddaughter come in.  

The little girl keeps calling the woman a word that sounds like grandma. 

He’s looking at a pair of mens jeans.

He looks so tired, so worn. 

He’s probably way younger than he looks. 

He hurts my heart. 

Grandma and cute little girl are walking around looking at everything.  

Little girl found a Christmas stocking.  

You know, soft red with white furry trim.  

She pulled on grandmas dress to get her attention, she wanted grandma to see the stocking.   

She had a huge big smile on her face just showing grandma that silly stocking. 

She carried it around with her throughout the store.

Finally the gentleman looks over at the register holding up a pair of jeans.  

The one who controls the bags yelled out to him, “four dollars.”

He put them back on the rack with a sad, disappointed face I can’t even describe.

Moments later the Nazi Bag Lady decided to go to lunch.

Good!

I walked over to the gentleman, pulled the pair of jeans he was asking about off the rack and placed them in his hands.  

He looked at me.

I smiled and said, “Two dollars”.

His sad face lit up and he smiled back BIG.

We walked over to the register, he dug into his pocket and pulled out a crumbled-up dollar bill, three quarters, two dimes and a nickel.

I took a bag, YEP, I TOOK A BAG, and put his jeans in the bag.

When little girl wasn’t looking, I’d picked up the stocking that she’d left behind and tucked it deep at the bottom of the bag.  

I can only imagine that sweet little face when she finds it went home with her in The Magic Bag!

Wrong to do?  

Maybe

I don’t care!

Two women came in, asked if we had any curtains.  

I’m sure we do……somewhere.

I took them back to the dungeon room where blankets, and all sorts of linens were shoved on shelves. And I mean shoved!

We began to talk.  

They told me they were sisters and had a sister in a wheel chair who couldn’t do much for herself and they decided to try to cheer her up by making her small apartment feel like a warm home.

They wanted curtains for her windows.

I urged them to pull everything down from all the shelves and look at it all.    

I added that if they knew how to sew, maybe they could find some nice material or even sheets, they could make into curtains.  

They began pulling stuff down off the shelves until they were almost buried.

They sat on the floor and began sifting through it all.

I left!

They were back in that room for over an hour, pulling out the few curtains they found and material that looked worthy of being turned into curtains.

Every once in awhile I’d walk by and they’d ask, “how much is this”?

I didn’t care WHAT it was.  It was a dollar as far as I was concerned.

After a long time they began coming outta that room with their arms so loaded with curtains, sheets and material that I could barely see their happy faces.  

I told them to just take it right out to the car and then come in to pay.

I watched them load the back seat…..full right up to the top.

They came in both digging in their purses.

I pushed the buttons.

“This machine says you owe it fifteen dollars.”

First they looked at each other, then they looked at me.

I wasn’t sure if they were gonna cry or if that was happiness taking over their faces.

Fifteen dollars, two hugs and maybe a thousand THANK YOU’s later, I watched them drive away.

Wrong to do?

Maybe.

I don’t care!

Think how you choose.

This is how I processed it…..

That merchandise is all brought in to the shop and donated.  

Why does a free pair of jeans need to be FOUR dollars and a bunch of curtains, sheets and material that’s just wadded up on a shelf have to be more than fifteen dollars?’

WHY?

Oh because there’s overhead?

Well overhead doesn’t get paid when jeans stay on the rack and things are shoved so tight on shelves nobody bothers with any of it.

So, let’s just chalk it up to my wages ‘cause I don’t get any!

Dock my pay. I don’t get that either!!

I’m working there for FREE!

Think I’ll burn in hell for that?

I don’t!

A man walked in and asked to speak with boss-man.

Maybe he’s a drug addict.

Maybe he’s an alcoholic.

Maybe he’s mentally ill.

Probably he lives on the street.

He looks broken.

I hear him ask boss-man for some clean clothes.

Boss-man walks him over to the racks that hold mens clothes and he tells them to go ahead and find something.

Wrong?

I don’t think so.

And I’ll bet boss-man doesn’t care.