Once again the ABC sale is just a memory. The racks and hangers have been put away, awaiting the
gathering, sorting and selling of treasures next year. It took so many of you contributing goods, time and talent to make the 2018 all-church rummage sale a grand success! The total reached nearly $12,000. What is important about that figure is that it will enable the Board of Deacons to reach out into the community with a helping hand and to hopefully make a difference in so many of the lives of our neighbors. The deacons will deliberate carefully in order to make meaningful choices.
In addition to the cash that was received and that will go right back out into our area, real goods were donated to a variety of places. During the week of the sale, a trailer from Remains sat outside in the back parking lot, ready to accept recyclable goods. After the sale, trucks pulled up to the front of the church, two from the Salvation Army and one from the Kidney Foundation to load unsold items from all departments except for clothing. The clothing went out the door by the kitchen into the truck from Isaiah 58. The loading was done by department workers and a “Takedown” committee, along with hardworking Boy Scouts and their leaders from the St. Mark troop. (We promised them many more spaghetti supper tickets would be sold next year!) Boxes of books were taken to the Veterans Administration to share at the hospital there. Suits, shirts, pants and suitcases were donated to the parole system so that those going out to find jobs would have interview clothing that they needed.
Organizations within the church benefit, too. The Christmas Boutique, the Claymont Preschool at St. Mark, the Fellowship Committee, Presbyterian Women, the Property Committee and Children’s Ministry all received items that they needed.
The sale actually continues year-round in yet another way. J. Morgan faithfully lists some unique treasures on EBay in the months to come in order to make additional funds for the Deacons to delegate. She takes on the task of monitoring this, shipping items all over in order to make the ABC event even better.
There are so many of you to thank, and we inevitably find that we have left someone out. The problem is that this all happens so quickly in the space of one week, and we often don’t have time to jot your name down or to have a sign-in sheet at a key place. Therefore we are not including a list with this article. Please know that we are grateful for each and every one of you, and we hope that you know that! By name we do need to thank Carol Pfeil, Jim Brewer and the Burgess family for all that they did during the week of the sale. And all of the rest of you (nearly 100) can feel certain that you have made a difference as you were doing God’s work. We pray that you will continue to help us next year; see you August 2, 3, 2019 - and the intense week before!
With love, C. Bartell, V. Chabot, B. Pierce
Ah, Easter! My memories begin in the 1950’s in the metropolitan Kansas City area, more specifically the beautiful Country Club Plaza. I remember being outfitted in new white patent leather Mary Jane shoes, a pretty pastel dress with a little jacket (with the obligatory stiff crinoline underneath), and a spotless white fancy straw bonnet with an elastic chin strap to keep it firmly affixed on my head - despite the breezes coming from across Brush Creek. Strolling through the Plaza on that special Sunday felt like participating in Kansas City’s own Easter Parade, and I felt as special as Judy Garland must have felt on Fred Astaire’s arm. I alternated between holding my daddy’s or my paternal grandfather’s hand as we walked down the sidewalks, anxiously searching for something extra special: the human-sized bunny statues, scattered throughout the area and brought out just for Lent!
Of course, these bunnies had Easter outfits, too. The daddy rabbits wore vests and striped pants; the mama bunnies were in long, bright-colored gowns and carried baskets of flowers. (The top hats and festive bonnets certainly were custom-made, as proven by the slits in them to accommodate the perfectly-groomed ears.) And the accompanying children were special, too. The boy bunnies mirrored my little brother’s shorts and knee socks, the little girls had similar shoes and outfits to rival mine, and each carried a basket filled with dyed eggs. For many, many years, when the weather permitted, and until we moved to St. Louis, this was the Berry family ritual, fit in between church and Easter dinner. My brother and I patiently posed for my grandmother by the various bunnies (for Gram Berry always had a camera in her bag), sometimes alone, sometimes together, sometimes with other family members. There are of course pictures where I am being held by my mother in earlier years, and, a few years later, pictures of my brother in a stroller when he just wouldn’t stand still for photos! I cherish those pictures when I come across them in the old family albums, and I hold fast to those memories they evoke.
