at the swap meet

Kobe’s Swap Meet is an adventure. Part garage sale, part living infomercial. In the early 90s I bought a pair of Hawaiian shorts there that last all of about six weeks. But I loved those shorts!

My parents never went to a swap meet: they went to flea markets. Is there a difference? Not that I know of. But it’s little wonder that flea markets became “swap meets.” Most people try to get rid of fleas, not buy them.

The beauty of a swap meet is the “deal.” It’s finding a treasure that isn’t found in stores (think the early days of the Salsa Master). It’s the joy of bantering and bargaining with the seller. It’s getting to poke around in other people’s stuff and not get in trouble for doing so.

Is there a spiritual lesson to be learned from the swap meet? I don’t have any particularly deep, penetrating observations. No brilliant insights.

Maybe that in and of itself is the spiritual lesson. Not every experience has to be the biggest, the brightest, the most sensational. If we’re not careful, we can become spiritual thrill-seekers and miss God in the ordinary experiences of life.