Donations

Many generous people in our community drop off donated items at my home. Don’t even always know who is doing the dropping. Could be clothes, household decor, toys or linens.

They do this because it helps them clear out their homes. And they also want to help others in the process.

My friends and I will send the donations to the refugee center. Or we will sell the items at our frequent garage sales with the proceeds supporting the refugee center and its programs.

It’s not always junk. Just things people no longer need or want.

Sometimes I receive things and I’m not even sure what they are.

There was the time my friend and I put aside a “camera lens” to see if her friend’s son would be interested in buying it. He was a photography buff.

We handled the lens more than once. I said to her, “It just seems so light.”

She agreed.

I think it was my daughter who finally set us straight. It wasn’t a lens but a coffee cup designed to look like a camera lens. LOL. You can google images.

I’ve had a few chuckles sifting through the boxes over the years. Like the time my friend, Lone, sent over some bags. She was donating a beach towel of mine!

My other friend received bags from two different families and found two shirts of her son’s and one of hers.

We’ve gotten valuable gold jewelry donated by mistake.

The sorting of it all can be overwhelming at times but it’s needed. Definitely needed.

One time I found a hand-written note. The donations were from a friend who was helping out a lady clear out her late husband’s belongings. I can’t remember if it was an expression of gratitude or what but I was glad I could return the note.

Or the photograph of my Australian friend and her daughter, who was a toddler at the time, taken when they lived in India.

Yesterday, a friend dropped off a bunch of bags in preparation for her move back to the U.S.

I sent her a text thanking her.

I also had to add, “And thanks for your son’s wallet loaded with Malaysian money as well as U.S. bills!”

You never know what you will discover.

This is where I veer off topic a bit.

I would later find out that while I came across this wallet my daughter had lost hers at school.

Called me from school to let me know. Was upset. The wallet had been our Christmas gift to her. So that bothered her but it was more about the contents. Which included her grandfather’s funeral card, a note from her Dad and photos of her loved ones.

We are pretty sure it’s been located so that’s good news. Waiting for confirmation.

But isn’t it strange that I found a wallet and my daughter lost hers at the very same time?

Weird.

Back to topic.

If you are donating items don’t forget to check those pockets. The pages. The bags. The everything.

Off topic.

If you do lose something-even if you aren’t Catholic-a prayer to St. Anthony won’t kill you.

When my daughter called to tell me about the wallet I said, “Say the prayer.”

She replied, “I will.”

I asked, “Do you know it? Say it out loud to me now.”

She said, “St. Anthony, St. Anthony, please come down. Something has been lost and must be found.”

I then let her off the hook. The telephone that is.

Hope you all find everything you are looking for this week!

JBM

 

 

 

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Streets

About four years ago, in California, my Annie conveniently found a lost dog at a local park. We ended up taking it home with us. She wanted one in the worst way. After having this jumping, spastic, barking Jack Russell Terrier for about six hours I secretly vowed never to get a dog. While vacuuming tons of hair the little rascal shed all over my black leather car seats I secretly repeated that vow.

Anyway, that day I was trying to figure out a way to find out where the dog’s house might have been. I think there were tags on the pup but when we called the telephone number there was no answer.

I saw a mail truck in the distance and thought,”Now that is a person who would know everything.” Couldn’t catch up to him.

My parents have had the same mailman for years. Charlie knows everything. Who died, moved or got divorced. How many pets, kids and vehicles.

So no one would know the homes or streets better than them. In the old days it would have been the milkman. How many phrases originated from that occupation?

“She’s been around the block more times than the milkman.” Or if a child doesn’t look like the father who got blamed? “It’s the milkman.”

Sometimes we just have to look at the obvious. Usually right under our noses.

I was reminded of this today when talking with a group of ladies about getting lost. About how I don’t use GPS here in Kuala Lumpur and find myself lost time and time again.

One time, I drove by the same prostitute three times prompting Annie, “Mom, is that a stripper?”

Well, in a way.

Anyway, I relayed the story to the group and one of the women from Louisiana shared a story of her own.

Her mom (with the kids in the car) got lost. She saw a prostitute and was stopping to ask her for directions.

The kids were like, “Mom! But she’s a prostitute!”

While it could have been a lesson in humanity sometimes it’s not the right moment. She turned around toward the backseat and told them, “And no one knows these streets better!”

Truth.

Sometimes the obvious is right under our nose.  Just have to look for it and use a little common sense.

Oh, one more thing. Two years later we became owners of a jumping, spastic, barking little Jack Russell Terrier mix that sheds all over the car seats.

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