Hi! My name is Sam. That’s short for Samsonite. I’ve been wanting to share the story of my life for a long time. Here goes.

I come from a long, proud line of suitcases. My personal beginning was in 1963 in a factory near Denver, Colorado. The air up there was so thin, but, then again, so was I. Not only thin, but flat. My abs were so tight! My skin was constructed of a material that could withstand lots of pounding, gouging, and pressure.

I was shipped in a huge cardboard carton, along with several of my brothers and sisters, to the Missionary Supply Company in Chicago. That company supplied discounted items to missionaries and pastors.

In late 1963, a fine young couple purchased me in order to move from Illinois to Texas. I was so proud to become part of their family. They took such good care of me. Fingerprints were quickly wiped off. A little net bag that contained some dried rose petals kept me smelling really good.

When the first little baby in this family was about six months old, the mother’s grandfather died. I got to ride on a train with them to the memorial service about 400 miles away. The clickety, clackety noise the train made kept me up all night!

Over the years, I made lots of trips with my family. One time, I rode in a U-Haul trailer to the Grand Canyon. We liked to camp. I often got to ride nestled between the tent and the sleeping bags.

I don’t remember how it happened, but one of my fasteners got broken. About the same time, we were going camping up in the Rocky Mountains. Our trip took us through Denver where I got my start. Oh, boy, it was like homecoming day. Everyone at the factory welcomed me back. They took such good care of me! They put on a new fastener and my owners lovingly put me back in the trunk and resumed their trip.

Times change and so do people’s needs. As time went by, my owners acquired newer suitcases. I felt a little hurt and a little jealous. The new suitcases actually had wheels and a built-in handle with which to pull it. Talk about uppity suitcases. There was no way I could compete. Besides that, I was getting kinda worn. I was scratched and beat up looking.

My resting place ended up out in the garage. Sometimes it was pretty hot and humid. Other times, it was cold and frigid. My pretty silk lining began to get little mildew spots on it. I felt badly about it, but what could I do? I’m just a suitcase, for goodness sake!

After several years of this kind of existence, my almost absentee owners got a phone call. It seems that one of the kids with whom I grew up so many years ago, had married and had three children. Their family has a lot of interest in mission and missionaries. In fact, the mother in the family and one their children made a plane trip to Africa last year. Now, they didn’t take me along, but I understand that. I just couldn’t compete with the new, shiny suitcases with the cute little wheels and the neato pull handle.

However, some things had changed. The missionaries in Africa needed some books so they could properly home school their children. They needed other things, including some parts for a piece of machinery. My first owners thought of me sitting out there in the garage all by myself. The decision was finally made that I would get loaded up with 70 pounds of VERY important materials and get to go to Africa. In all my dreams, I’d never ever thought I would be asked to do something so important, especially since I’d been “put on the shelf” so to speak.

Getting ready to go has been so much fun. I got scrubbed and cleaned up inside and out. The silk material had to go, but they glued some other stuff in its place. I feel useful again and just love being a part of the action.

I know I’m not coming back to America again. Maybe these people who are sending me over there think that I’ll just be forgotten and put away in some dark, dingy closet. Everybody might be quite surprised down the road. Maybe there will be yet another job for me to do. As long as my hinges hold up and my latches work, maybe I can still be useful to somebody.

Witnessing isn’t my thing. I don’t have lips. After all, I’m just a suitcase. But, I’m going to be the best suitcase I can be. I can help get things to people that will help them do the work of the ministry. Oh, it’s so exciting.

WHAT COULD YOU AND I LEARN
FROM A SUITCASE?

• The God who created everything from nothing has no problem using anything to do something.
• In the Bible, God used an ox goad and the jawbone of a donkey to win battles against overwhelming odds. He used a stick to make an iron ax head float; a young boy’s brown bag lunch miraculously stretched to feed 12,000 people (with plenty of bread and fish left over); one of five smooth stones taken from a bubbling brook were used to bring down a giant.
• Even a suitcase can be part of a sensible recycling program and become useful again.
• Can any of us say, with a straight face, that we’re beyond redemption?
• Can any of us say, with a straight face, that we’re useless to the Lord? I think not!

“I’M A LITTLE SUITCASE, GRAY AND FLAT”
A Poetic Response by Charlene Fairchild

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