On my last visit to Farm Girl and the grandkids I took a notion to have several of the kids pose with Sarah the horse.
Sarah doesn't belong to them. Long before my daughter thought of turning her farm into a haven for animals in need, someone approached her to board a horse. The horse was lame and, by rights, should be put down. The owner dearly loved her horse but was entering university and she would not be able to care for Sarah every day. Paying full board was out of the question as well. She offered to help around the barn on holidays as part payment. So Sarah stayed on for little more than the cost of her feed.
Last weekend I kept my commitment to join in on our village yard sale. The week before had been hectic and I was racing around at the last minute to find a few things to put on a small table. I did not have time for this and I was far too tired to be doing it for the very few dollars I would earn. That darned little voice inside told me to do it anyway.
I put some mismatched silver pieces in an old silver chest, thinking someone might find a missing piece to their pattern. The silver was priced at 10 cents each. I was a little anxious about selling silver at all since I accidentally sold my own set of silver for 10 cents apiece at my last yard sale. Don't ask me how that happened. If I knew, I wouldn't have done it!
A couple came up to me, speaking very broken English, with a fork in their hand. Why that fork was in there, I never will know! It was stainless steel and I never keep any of the stainless pieces that come with the silver I buy.
The man: I not cheat you. This is not silver.
Me: I know it's not silver.
The man: This is Russian. See. (shows me marking on back)
Me: Well, that's interesting.
The woman: We are Russian.
Me: Would you like to have the fork? You can just take it, no charge.
The man: When I leave Russia, my mother give me this set. When I get to Canada, fork is lost. Now I have back.
The woman: His mother die after we come here.
He reaches in his pocket for money and I wave him off.
Me: Your mother is still looking out for you. She found your fork!
The man looks up to heaven and says: She is angel.
The woman starts to cry, the man starts to cry and I start to cry.
The woman: You have give us gift and now we must give you gift. It is tradition and it must be one dollar.
They left, fork clutched in hand, after smiles and hugs all around.
My neighbours wanted to know what the heck it had all been about and I told them the story. They all got to cry, too.
So, now I know why I did that yard sale I didn't want to do. It was to make a stranger in a strange land happy; to make him feel close to the mother he lost.
Listen to your inner voice. Someone may need you.