Pebbles

My kids and I went to this great little thrift store in Peyton, CO in search of treasures. We found several board games and a few toys and such. While checking out, I happened to glance at a corner over and behind the counter. And there she was!

Pebbles…

A worn 1970’s doll with bright blue eyes, a soft body, and a little floral dress with a blue ribbon that time had faded just enough to prove she had been loved before. The moment I saw her, I recognized her…

You see, she was one of my very best friends as a little girl. She and my brother’s BamBam doll were always with me when we played house or rode bikes or snuggled on the couch. 

Suddenly, in that moment I wasn’t just standing in a thrift store anymore. I was a little girl again.

I did not hesitate for even a microsecond to walk over and gently pick her up off the shelf she had been sitting on. I did not care how much she cost because I knew her value to me.

There is something sacred about the memories we don’t realize we carry. The ones tucked quietly away until something small and unexpected calls them back to life.

Tonight, I am ridiculously excited to wash her carefully, restuff her little body, straighten her little clothes, and give her another chance at being treasured.

And maybe this is why she matters to me more than one would think a little doll in a thrift store would.

Because sometimes restoration is holy in the smallest ways. Sometimes God lets us stumble across old pieces of ourselves just to remind us that nothing loved is ever truly lost.

Pebbles came home with me today.

And strangely… I think a tiny piece of me has, too.