Every July, the ladies (to the best of my knowledge, there are no male members) of our parish Mission Commission host a garage sale at the local Knights of Columbus hall. The sale lasts several days. By the last day, purchases can be made by the bagful. Anything that’s left is packaged up and sent to the nearest St. Vincent de Paul facility.
My daughters went to the sale with some of their friends this past summer, and they returned home with their treasures, which included a pair of gaudy plastic bunny cups (the ears hang down the sides like handles – one cup is pink and the other is blue) and a collection of shot glasses, from which they enjoy drinking Pepsi and Dr. Pepper. I wasn’t sure how to feel about them bringing shot glasses home from the church sale, and I hoped that it wasn’t training them for a future life of debauchery.
But they also thought of me while they were shopping. For me, they brought home a paperback Bible for military families. I separated from the military years ago, but I was touched by their consideration. The Bible is the size of a typical paperback novel, and I keep it at my desk at work. I do have one minor quibble, though. The translation is the New International Version (NIV). I prefer the Revised Standard Version (RSV). Plus, it’s a Protestant Bible and does not include the deutero-canonical books. That means no Wisdom and no Maccabees (among others).
Still, it’s nice to have, and even nicer to know that my daughters thought of me.