It’s funny how the things we think are temporary sometimes outlast the things we thought were built to stay.
About 15 years ago, the church where I worked hosted an annual Fall Festival that included a rummage sale. I was technically the one “in charge” of the event, though in reality, I spent most of the day running from one fire to the next — making sure volunteers had what they needed, greeting visitors, keeping things moving.
By the time the sale was winding down, I finally took a look around at what was left. There, tucked against one wall, sat a black-and-white patterned sofa. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was sturdy, clean, and oddly inviting. It had been priced around ninety dollars, which was fair — but no one had bitten.
The man running the sale saw me looking and said, “If you want it, how about thirty bucks?”
I called my wife, got the okay, and by that evening, that sofa was sitting in our living room.
Fifteen years later, it’s still here — though it’s had some adventures. The dogs have taken turns treating it like a chew toy, the cushions have been replaced with a slab of memory foam, and the cover has changed. But somehow, this thrift-store rescue survived a move, a divorce, a remarriage, and a whole lot of life.
As I write this, my sweet Pitbull, Princess, is lying on the sofa she once chewed into pieces, and I’ll be joining her as soon as I finish this: it’s not just the best thirty dollars I ever spent — it’s a reminder that some of life’s best comforts don’t have to be new or perfect. They just have to hold up.
Copyright © 2025 Doug DeBolt.
