The morning had been long and the sweaty auctioneer struggled to sell all his merchandise before the few remaining people left at the auction site packed their cars and left.
A box of miscellaneous items sat on the table. No one would bid. The auctioneer added another box. No bids. He added another box, one that I had peeked in and saw some patchwork. I bid $1. No one else bid, so I loaded the three boxes in my car, filling the back for $1.
I unloaded the boxes in the garage and started going through them, my favorite part of auctions, searching for treasure that someone packed away with a lifetime. The contents included old bedspreads and polyester clothing which were immediately transferred to the garbage can nearby. One box had some board games, dog-eared books with the covers missing, empty cassette tape containers. One box had a ragged crib quilt.
The little quilt was ragged around the edges, loved to death by a child long ago. A big grease stain covered one side. The small fabric pieces had been intricately hand- stitched, and I could see a grandmother sitting, patiently stitching, thinking about a little one that would arrive soon.
I couldn't throw it away.
The quilt was soaked and cleaned and dried in the sun. With a pattern, some thread, stuffing, and a little time, the quilt was transformed, made into something new, and saved for another child to enjoy.
Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new.2 Corinthians 5:17