God at Goodwill

A thermos, uniform shirt, and seeds walk into a bar...

I’m on Spring break at school. Last week was my kids Spring break so we went to Nashville to see some friends. I still had 2 papers and a midterm due so I spent a good amount of time on a trip locked up, writing my brains out. This week, the kids are back in school and I’m supposedly off. I should be researching my next paper but I’m out here acting like Seminarians gone wild by going to a thrift store BOTH Monday and Tuesday.

The thing about the thrift stores I go to is that I go too much so I know the employees. “I” is a tall, slender, black man with blue-lensed circle glasses and always has a leather vest on. He hugs me every time I walk through the doors and if I don’t see him at first, I hear, “HEY!” behind me while looking at paintings. He has had both alcohol and cigarettes at various times on his breath but mostly only cigarettes. We talk about the weather, and nothing, but it doesn’t matter. I’m the most important person in the room to him. He is to me too. I buy a magical, heavy, vintage rug and the lady at checkout gives me instructions on how to come back inside and blah blah blah but I just nod and smile because he will be watching for me when I pull up. This isn’t our first rodeo, lady.

I could tell you about “E”. She and I share a name: Her first name and my middle. She has highlighted braids for days, chocolate skin, calls me “Honey” and if I go to anyone else's line, I’ll be damned. And she lets me know, I tried it only once! We catch up on everything in the line: family, drama, dating—she’s in her 70’s. I tell her to keep putting herself out there and she says, “Why? I don’t need no trouble. I like living alone. I don’t need no one messin’ up my space.” And we cackle. She gives me the senior discount and I know it’s wrong but she rolls her eyes when something is priced too high and so do I. When Lila came in with me, E and I acted as though nothing was strange at all. I’m not saying Lila is strange, I’m saying being treated like she isn’t is. They are the salt of the earth, the light of my life, the most irreverent God-sends.

God is in Goodwill. Seek and you shall find.

Today, I went to a Goodwill further away by the lake house we used to own. I still try and get out there once a month. Typically my check out gal is the most cheerful down syndrome cashier, with black, short, curly hair that rests on her olive skin. She asks me how my day is. She never judges the weird things I buy— she’s seen too much or she’s genuinely so pure of heart. She is the most patient when I stick my card in too early, “Everyone does that!” she laughs. I know better.

But this time, she wasn’t there. Someone new was. She was maybe in her early 30’s, had a walkie talkie for some reason, and her eyeliner was green, but only on the bottom half of her eye? Anyway, I went to unravel a rug and behind it was a huge standing vase. I pulled the rug, and the maroon Tuscany-inspired-Kirkland vase fell with it and cracked at the top. Everyone looked over. Sheepishly, I picked it up. She didn’t even walk over, she just said, “It’s fine.” and kept checking someone out. The lady who was being checked out said, “I’ve done that before too. Don’t worry about it.” So I didn’t. Goodwill is the least judgey place you can be, apparently.

I set my random items on the counter. My kids somehow lost 2 lunch thermoses that week and they are dainty flowers who actually love meatballs and butter noodles HOT. Cold lunches, be gone! That morning, we scrambled through finding the most modge podge thermos situations with a lot of frustration. My gut reaction is to run to Target, but I don’t do that anymore¹. So, I decided, I’d find them at the thrift stores. And there they were for $2.99 each. I gasped with delight when I saw them. And then there was a uniform shirt for Pruett for $4 that he needed, because his are getting too small. And there was the most beautiful small quilt, all tired out for everyone except for me. Wow, God, you’re unreal. THANK YOU, kind Sir!—A silent prayer shot up.

I get to the counter to check out with a “Hi, it’s the lady that breaks things” and she says, “Everyone breaks things. It happens.” I look down and there are local heirloom seeds available for 98 cents. The same company I buy from? Heirloom seeds? I’m the pickiest about my seeds and the selection here was all the ones I didn’t have? I gasped! I have already planted some lettuces, herbs, and radish by seed and they’ve begun popping up after 10 days. But I wanted more because anything worth doing is worth overdoing™️. My goal is to share my produce with the entire block and a local food pantry this growing season. I was so thrilled over these seeds because apparently I am getting old. But also, I’m looking around like Am I on a hidden camera show for the people of Heaven network? Are they watching this laughing, “Wait till He gives her the seeds!” and everyone slaps their knee? As I’m grabbing my bag after she handed me my receipt, the cashier says quietly, “Hey. Do you know Jesus loves you?”. I am in full walk off mode, stop, and turn around. “Excuse me?”

“I just wanted you to know that Jesus loves you.”

I cock my head and look her in the eyes, scanning hers, “He does. I agree. I love Jesus. He loves you too. I am in school to get my masters in Theology. I love love love learning about God.”

She smiled big like she was proud or at least very interested. We talk about where she goes to church and where I go. Our backgrounds too—I tell her I grew up in a pentecostal church, but now am in Anglican spaces, “I like the liturgy more than I thought I would.”

“Did you like going to a charismatic church?” she asks taking me off guard. That’s not a normal run of the mill question.

“There was a lot of freedom, but it did lack accountability. They could just say stuff and it was bible. Things can get weird.”

“Ya, I went to one growing up and people spoke things over me I still carry today. They put so much emphasis on prophecy. Turns out, it wasn’t true. It still hurts,” she confided.

“Ugh. I’m sorry,” I lamented with her.

“Ya, it’s ok. I am at a good church now. I left and partied for a while but I don’t do that anymore. I’m going to get a new job soon. A serious job. I have my degree, I quit going to the bars and I am going to work with special needs kids. It’s just that I’m not a good worker—I messed a lot up when I was living wild. I love the kids but I’m not super professional. Even here, I messed up some stuff at first and they were annoyed with me,” she said not breaking eye contact with me.

“Because you were learning? First of all, in 3 minutes, you’ve become my favorite cashier here. You engaged with the customer, were so gracious about the broken vase, and were delightful to speak with. You made me feel seen and special. Don’t make agreemments about being a bad worker because someone spoke that over you. Like those bad prophets at your church. it was said over you, but it doesn’t mean it’s true. Everyone makes mistakes. Everyone breaks things,” I said, still scanning her eyes.

We smiled. “Thank you for saying that. And then let me know how I can pray for you. I have all time in the world today,” She said as she walked me to the door. I gave my request: I said one in my head that was too private, and one spoken out loud. And told her I would pray for her new job. “You’re gonna do great. I have a special needs kid and I can tell you that people who work with special needs kids are angels. They are different. You are an angel.”

She referenced something about her life which was the exact secret prayer request I said in my mind. My eyes got big as I walked away. WHAT WAS THAT WHOLE THING?

When I got in the car, I teared up to almost full blown crying. It seems silly to do so, but I was thinking about the very specific needs I went into the thrift store with: a thermos and the uniform shirt and perhaps, a need to know that God loves me deeply and He delights in providing for me. He put heirloom seeds at the checkout. WHY ARE SEEDS AT THE THRIFT STORE THAT IS WIERD. As someone who spends a lot of time letting other people know that Jesus loves them, I forget how much I need to hear that myself. And the phrase Jesus loves you is said so much, that it loses its meaning—but get a load of this, God used a stranger who was not a usual employee to make sure I knew that the creator of the entire universe, the God of Moses and Mary Magdalene, condescended to the janky concrete floor of Goodwill to let me know He loves me.²

You get a thermos, you get seeds! You get a uniform shirt!

I don’t know what your thermos is today. I don’t know what your seeds are. But I promise you, God is not ignoring your needs or desires. I promise you, He is everywhere. The delightful theologian, Flemming Rutledge, said something like, “Christians are acting like Jesus died and stayed dead.” It is the Easter season after all, we anticipate the resurrection through lent. But to her point, He died for our sins, yes. But he also that He could be everywhere, all at once through the Holy Spirit. He’s not dead! Further, He didn’t die and then head to Heaven and stay there like “Deuces, ya’ll”! The Holy Spirit is God, and He is everywhere. You only need to seek Him and I promise, you will find Him under fluorescent lights, invading human beings with love and light and provision at the thrift store. Deep calling to deep, the image of God is staring you down with light green eyeliner.

Look alive out there,

Jami

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1. I’ve changed my buying habits to buying second hand when possible and being less consumeristic. It perhaps is a long term boycott, but it is changing my heart. Particularly the ways in which I dabbled in over consumption of cheaply made items bc they were convenient. I have cut Amazon spending by 75%, Target by 90% and switched to local businesses and grocery stores. I’m not saying that as a pat on the back, but to let you know it can be done. Little changes do matter.

2. I called her an angel, and maybe she was one in hindsight. “Do not forget to entertain strangers, for by so doing some have unwittingly entertained angels.” Hebrews 13:2. I keep thinking about it, I keep thinking about her eyes. I keep thinking about how she followed me out the door and how I looked back at her, like who are you? I keep thinking about how her presence was all consuming and how I kept trying to find her behind her piercing blue eyes. I could feel her watching me as I drove away. Strange to say the least!