I remember my dad always talking about the cars he had. It was a list of “whos who” among cars. He was a mechanic and ended up with a lot of cars in trade for services throughout the years. And it was truly an incredible list. Before he died he and my nephew were making a list of all the cars and every time he he would say “I bought it used”.
It’s now not uncommon to buy clothes used. That didn’t used to happen when I was younger. It’s not just common, it’s preferred by many.
Used is a word that has come to mean different things to me.
As I’ve been thinking about the feeling that “it’s gotta be me”, I’ve been wrestling with this word. It’s an ugly word.
I needed a specific tool to work on the car last week and I had the tool and I “used” it. I then put it back in the tool box and it will sit there until I “use” it again. The tool was “useful” for a specific purpose.
There is a common thread among things that are used. They are really good at what they are used for. They are not considered for any reason other than that purpose. They are set aside until that purpose is needed. If for some reason they cannot fulfill their purpose, they are cast aside and replaced.
At my old job I felt “useful”. When I was 12, the trauma, I felt used. Even with the doctors all those years…I didn’t fulfill their purpose…I wouldn’t get better…and so I was set aside. I still don’t know if there is something about me or not…but…
There is one situation where I want to feel used.
Why was the man born blind? To be “used” by God.
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