This process of going through my brother’s belongings has been a long process and extremely difficult. After a few weeks of going through mountains of stuff, I discovered it would be an impossible task. It was with incredible feelings of relief and gratitude when my friend Teresa, along with her husband Hal graciously accepted the task of doing the estate sale. There were weeks of hard work and dump runs before the sale could even take place.

When our parents passed away my brother told me not to worry about the rest of their things. (I soon found out where they all ended up.) So that had to be gone through as well. Finally, it was the weekend of the sale.

I stayed away and let the experts handle it and handle it they did. Way beyond my expectations. We had agreed that what was left would be dumped or given away free. Ready to be taken out, amongst the box of my niece’s old dolls, I exclaimed to Elaine, “There’s my Cherie doll!” I had known she was there somewhere because I knew my mom had saved her for me. She was dirty and disheveled, her hair patchy and matted. The box was carried out along with all the other stuff with a “free” sign on it.

It was the next day, and I was in the shower getting ready for work. Grief can be irrational and sneaky and shows up at odd times. I thought of Cherie outside in that box and I remembered my long ago love for her. I remembered her two-piece blue outfit and her perfect short blonde hair and the words she said when I pulled her string. And I am crying all over again as I write this. And it makes no sense and yet it makes perfect sense. It’s kind of like when you lose someone you love and you are too busy to cry trying to be strong for everyone else, and then a year later your cat dies, and you are submerged in grief for weeks.

Elaine heard me crying and asked what was wrong. I said, “I’ve got to go get Cherie and I have to get to work!” Best friend that she is, she dragged herself out of bed and drove across town hoping and praying she’d still be there. And she was, on the very bottom of the box!

As I drove to work, I kept thinking about that little doll. And then I heard the Holy Spirit whisper six words……..“I have called you by name.” As tears rolled again, I thought of myself in the “free take it” box. And of the God who called me by name long ago and pulled dirty, disheveled forgotten me out of that box.

Isn’t that what God wants to do for every one of us if we will only let him? Isn’t the Christian life kind of like one long series of God reclaiming us when we’ve forgotten where we came from and who we truly belong to?

There was no question, saving Cherie was crucial. Saving her was about reclaiming a part of myself, a part of my life that seemed so innocent, so simple. Before all the adulting. Before all the misgivings, misunderstandings, and miscommunications that are all part of growing up and growing older. In remembering how I loved her; I remembered how God loves me still.

I received the text and a picture at work. Elaine had put Cherie next to her in the seatbelt and I had to laugh to myself. My day felt redeemed and so did I. That night Cherie got a bath, a new outfit and hat to hide the bad hair. It will always be a cherished memory now. Us at Walmart going through all the baby clothes and finding the right one. The Tutu was a must.

Someday soon she may on the “doll bench” in my aunt’s spare room, but for now, she has a place of honor in the driver’s seat of the motorhome. And if it’s a little crazy having a doll in here, so be it.

Life and grief can be extremely crazy at times.