A Vintage Spool That Kept a Promise
Sometimes the smallest treasures teach the biggest lessons. On a quiet Saturday morning, a simple estate sale led me to unexpected connection, heartfelt promises, and a reminder that even the ordinary moments can hold extraordinary meaning.
A Saturday Morning Treasure Hunt
It was a typical Saturday morning. Steve, my husband, and I were on the road, visiting garage sales, hunting for hidden treasures I could share in Shannon’s Fun Finds (SFF). SFF is my antique booth. You have to be dedicated if you want to find the best and the most fun items for the treasure-seeking friends who shop your booth.
That morning, there was something special in the air. It was early spring; the air was still a little crisp with the promise of warmth and sunshine. I felt a deep gratitude to God—for the weather, for the day off, and for the relaxed, no schedule kind of time to spend with my husband.
The Estate Sale That Stole My Heart
We walked up a small inclined driveway to discover several tables filled with treasures, and I immediately got a special feeling. Many lovely items sat on the tables. Some of the vintage gems were stacked neatly on the concrete, while other finds waited in boxes to be discovered. Several bolts of beautifully designed fabric leaned against a table.
I was intrigued. It was one of those sales where I felt an instant connection and wondered about the type of person who could create using such things.
I don’t sew. I tried once—but one phone call to my mom for a simple question quickly made me realize I was in over my head. There are no simple answers in sewing. For me there were too many pieces and too many ways for something to go wrong. Project abandoned.
Even so, I can recognize and fully appreciate the beauty of a gorgeous pattern or the texture of a bolt of material. And now I still sit in awe of people with that kind of talent, patience, and passion.
A Connection Through Shared Grief
Lost in that thought, curiosity overtook me, and I turned to the homeowner and asked, “Do you sew?”
She gave a half smile and said, “My mom did.”
That told me everything. Having walked that same road of heartache myself, I immediately understood what she was feeling. At that moment, I connected with a stranger.
This wasn’t just a garage sale. This was an estate sale. For her, it was gut-wrenching—an experience that had changed her life in ways she never imagined. Life for her now had to be navigated with different intentions. She faced each day without the person who gave her life—her first friend, the one person we all have counted on. Now she had to be the most grown person she knew.
In my mind, that was the exact second she and I became friends. We shared a commonality of pain that left us in a club I was sure neither of us had wanted to join.
I smiled back warmly, hoping my smile could speak the words I couldn’t find.
Placing Her in Good Hands
Continuing to look through a great deal of interesting vintage items, my heart stayed heavy for her. I felt my own grief stir as I empathized with a complete stranger—a connection that surprised me, even unsettled me. I didn’t want to leave that sale.
I wanted to put my arms around her and say, “You will be okay; it’s not easy, but you will be okay.”
I wanted to share memories, get her number, tell her about local grief counseling, share the verses from God that were keeping me going.
I wanted to make sure she knew where to find comfort and peace.
It wasn’t the time or place. She had started another conversation with someone else, and it was my job not to interrupt. I bowed my head, closed my eyes, and though I might have seemed absorbed in the vintage sewing notions on the table in front of me, my heart was fully lifted in prayer for her.
I prayed that God would do for her all the things I couldn’t do in that moment. I asked Him to put His arms around her, comfort her, and make sure He revealed to her the type of grief therapy she needed. I trusted Him as the Knower of all things. She was His daughter, and I believed He would surround her with His comfort and love, making sure she knew she was seen and wasn’t walking alone.
Vintage Spools and Promises Made
I continued to look around and make small talk, then found something even more intriguing. On the corner of one table sat a jar full of used wooden thread spools. I spoke up, “Wow, those have such a unique beauty and remind me so much of my grandmother.”
My new friend answered, “Mom kept those.” We began talking about the vintage spools and pondering what could be done with them. She admitted she didn’t know what to do with them but had kept them for a while because she didn’t want to let them go.
Wow, did I understand that. I still have so many of my mom’s things that I’m just not ready to part with.
I picked up the jar for a closer look. She said, “If you like them, I have more.” She reached down into a box and pulled out a larger jar of spools. After a moment, I found myself holding it in both hands. There was an assortment of colors and sizes. In an interesting, nostalgic, vintage way, they were breathtaking.
Some even still had the original price sticker on them, and I couldn’t stop looking. It wasn’t just the spools. There was something more—a feeling of connection, perhaps. We discussed possibilities for repurposing them. She had even looked up ideas online. I don’t know why, but I couldn’t leave them. I asked for the price. There was such a flood of emotions that I can’t even remember the amount I paid.
“Alright! I will take them and find something to do with them,” I promised.
She smiled, “Well, okay.” I could tell she needed that. She didn’t want to get rid of the things she was selling but was overwhelmed. She needed to break free from some of the weight of responsibilities in order to have the opportunity to grieve. Man, did I get it. I had been there. No, I was still there… I still am.
It wasn’t just a way to end the sale. For me, it was a commitment. A promise that left me baffled. I had no idea what I would do with those large jars of spools. But something about figuring it out felt pleasing to my soul. So I smile politely, paid her, collected the jars, and went on my way.
Giving New Life to Old Treasures
I took the jars home and stored them for a few months. I teach, which keeps me busy during the school year, so it was probably mid-summer before they were rediscovered in my craft box.
Recalling that spring morning, I pulled them out and stared again. Memories took me back to the promise I had made—and the prayer I had lifted for that virtual stranger. Although my heart had been stirred in such an impactful way, I hadn’t thought about her in months. The flood of emotions returned, but in a lighter way. My heart was stirred again -but this time something was different. I wondered how I had felt so many emotions alongside her and then walked away with a couple jars of wooden spools—leaving a promise—and then not thinking of her again for months.
A few brief waves of guilt washed over me until I remembered—I had not abandoned her that day. I had prayed. When I walked away, I hadn’t left her behind; in that prayer, I had placed her in God’s hands, trusting His promises in Deuteronomy 31:8:
“The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.”
I trusted His promise that He would give her the comfort a stranger couldn’t. I trusted Him to never leave her though I had to, and for Him to bring her peace that surpasses understanding. There are times when we are to act as the hands and feet of God—and there are times when we simply remember and trust His promises. This time, as I walked away from her, I left her in the hands of the One who would never leave her alone.
Trusting God While Living for the Win
I pulled the spools from the storage tote, again remembering the promise I had made that spring morning. I spent hours—and then days—exploring Pinterest and the internet for ideas, determined to give each piece new life. My friend had been right: there weren’t many examples out there.
Still, a promise made is a promise kept. I studied each spool, imagining how a little creativity, love, and time could transform them. Slowly, they became ornaments—each one unique, carrying a touch of nostalgia and beauty. I worked on them for over a week. I kept a few, gifted some, and shared others in my booth at Shannon’s Fun Finds, hoping that others would appreciate their story the way I did.
A little vintage style for the holidays
In that process, I realized something important: keeping the promises we make is an act of faithfulness. We follow through on promises because we can trust our Creator to keep His—just like the promise in Deuteronomy I had clung to for months. Trusting Him and leaning on His faithfulness not only brings comfort, but also frees us from feeling like we must hold everything together for the people we love.
When we trust Him our load is lighter—knowing He is caring for us and for those around us. And in those sacred moments—whether we are tending to our own hearts or caring for someone else’s—we can rest in His promises and move forward, choosing to faithfully navigate the now while living for the win.
Vintage wooden spools conformed into unique ornaments