We are trying to find ways to conserve the funds the good Lord blesses us with so we started by bringing all the stuff we had in a storage unit and put it into our second bedroom. Now we are trying to clean out that second bedroom. I have been spending a little time as I can each day looking through the old boxes and bins we haven’t unpacked since our wedding. (which was on March 5, 2011). I am a collector, well okay I am a pack Rat. As I am pulling “stuff”out of the boxes and deciding whether to keep or toss I share my memories with my husband. He has come up with the statement “I have a story for everything I have” and He is so right. Each item I pick up I remember a part of my life when it was just me and my children, or me and my dog, or me and all the children I have supervised over the years. Some are happy memories, some are disappointing, and some are humorous. Deciding what to part with is so hard when it part of a memory.
A lanyard from a children’s conference in Kelowna with a group of wonderful women from the church, reminds me of the hour I got to see my grandson. My son brought him over to the conference site. He was around two or three. He was a happy and energetic little lad, I was so happy to have that chance to see him. A picture of me and my children with their cousin on a parade float in Vancouver when we helped out with parades. A cupcake pick of a bunny rabbit, our first Easter in Vancouver. A picture of my army buddies when we were out on practice maneuvers in boot camp, my uniform shoulder tabs. My daughters doll cradle her grandma made for her. An old football or two or three of games I had attended. Autographed soccer balls from my favorite Vancouver Whitecaps soccer team. Flags from teams I supported and still support, excess paintball equipment, camping gear. Many books I have read and yet for one reason or another I can not seem to part with. Lots of art and craft supplies. I am a collector all right. I have a lot of “stuff”
When does it become clutter? When does it become a burden? I struggle with departing from my “stuff”, why I am not sure. I sometimes think it was because I was homeless, or because survival was all I knew, and when you got something you hung on to it. Maybe it is insecurity. The fear of once again having nothing.
God says in Matthew 6:25-34 (NIV)
“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life ? …
Maybe it is time I found a way to keep the memories, yet depart from the items themselves. Any ideas?