The Estate Sale Sermon (and the Dog That Broke My Fall)

A short story about resilience, leadership, and turning obstacles into opportunities

For the last two weeks I’ve been in Oakland handling my Uncle Johnny’s affairs after he passed, which is a strange sentence to even write. Not exactly corporate keynote speaker material… but sometimes leadership shows up in unexpected places.

I don’t really have a “job,” so I told the fam I’d go out and take care of things. And… this is a house. Cool. No need for a wandering, one-armed vagabond motivational speaker to get a hotel for a bit.

I can clean the house. Sort through memories. Meet the lawyer. Disconnect the cable. Sell the car. Decide what stays, what goes… and set up the liquidation estate sale so people think they’re going to get “a deal.”

The Tale of Two Stairs

One thing I did know was important: There were two sets of stairs outside the house.

• One wooden.
• One concrete.

The wooden stairs looked rough. But the step at the very top? That one actually felt rough. Like you were standing on Aunt Rhonda’s Bundt cake. Soft. Questionable. Definitely not piano-ready. And there was a piano.

So I shored up the loose 5–6 stairs and replaced the top wooden stair. The concrete stairs? Solid. No problem. (That sentence will matter later.)

The Morning of the Sale

Yesterday morning was the estate sale. At 7:00 AM there were about 30 people outside the house. They all kind of knew each other. They were negotiating who got in first.

“I’ve been here two hours.” “No, I was here before you.”

It felt like Storage Wars: Deceased Bowler Edition. And suddenly it hit me. This was my uncle’s house. His stuff. His life. And now it was… a bargain hunt.

I had the key in my hand. They had the hunger in their eyes. So before I opened the door, I gathered them together. They thought I was about to let them in. Instead I said,

“Hi, I’m Derrick. The man who lived in this house was my Uncle Johnny. And before we go in… I want to tell you about him.”

So I told them about Johnny. How loving he was. How he adored bowling. Even had a 300 game. And how — if you’re going to go — he actually passed away while bowling. Which honestly… what a way to go. Doing what you love.

Then I talked to them about God. About life not always making sense. About obstacles. About how sometimes the things we don’t understand are the things that bring us together. And then I prayed.

“God, you know every life standing here. You know the things we carry and the things we don’t understand. I just ask that you would make your presence known to each person in Uncle Johnny’s yard today.” Amen.

Part II: Dreyfus’ Last Stand

Now at this point, they REALLY thought they were getting inside. But I wasn’t done. Because my Uncle Johnny had a dog. Dreyfus. Cool name for a dog, huh?

And Dreyfus’ ashes… were sitting in a porcelain box. About to be sold. This also didn’t feel right. So… part II.

I told them about Dreyfus. How much Johnny loved him. How we love our dogs like family. Then I walked down the solid concrete stairs into the garden… and sprinkled Dreyfus’ ashes… so he could now stay home forever.

It was actually a really beautiful moment. Thirty people standing quietly. A little ceremony. A little dignity. A little humanity.

The Unexpected Collapse

Then I turned… to start walking back up the stairs… ready to finally let everyone in. And that’s when it happened.

Not the wooden stairs I fixed. The concrete ones. The “solid” ones. The wooden frame around them suddenly came apart. The entire thing collapsed… and I fell backward into the bushes… landing directly… on Dreyfus.

So there I am. Covered in dog ashes. Flat on my back. Thirty estate-sale warriors staring at me. And then — three people rushed in to help. They grab me. It’s like six fully functional arms… versus my one good one. They heave…

…and get me back on my feet.

…and just as I’m standing up — one of them falls backward into the bushes in “equal and opposite” fashion. Thank you, Isaac Newton.

Now he’s in the garden on his back. I’m still covered in Dreyfus. And all three of them are wondering how trying to help the handicapped nephew, inspirational-speaker guy went so wrong.

A Holy Kind of Mess

After making sure backward-falling guy was ok, I brushed myself off, finally used the key, opened the door… and let them in.

The next few hours were full of:

• “That was really cool.”
• “Thank you for doing that.”
• “I’ve never been to an estate sale like this before.”

And I made more than a few new friends. It was a strange day. A sad day. A funny day. A holy day.

You see, sometimes you try to create a meaningful moment… …and end up covered in Dreyfus. But everyone paused. Everyone listened. Everyone smiled. And somehow… it still mattered.

Oh… and by the way, I don’t even know what a Bundt cake IS. But it sounded fun. And squishy.