As a small child, I kept all my
school work, and I do mean ALL. I remember being downstairs in our home in
Auburn, surrounded by page upon of school work and my mother asking me, “Robin,
Do you really think you need to keep all this stuff?”
I did, and apparently I do, as
evidenced by the boxes of “stuff” filling my closets. Some of this “stuff” I've inherited from my children and grandchildren. They move out and leave behind
things they want to keep, but not badly enough to keep at their own homes.
Looking at the stuff, trying to downsize, it’s difficult to throw away those
Disney ears with a grandchild’s name proudly written across the brim.
Everything seems to have so many memories it makes sorting, and giving and
throwing away a seemingly impossible task. But, recently, the images of the
stuff increasingly press upon me with a sense of urgency to get rid of it
already.
During the pregnancies of my four
children, I knew when my time for delivery was upon me. A few days before their
birth, the same sense of urgency to clean came with a vengeance. Windows, and
cupboards, and closets seem to beckon with ‘clean me!’ calls.
Now, daily, the same ‘clean me’ calls
come from those closets. Am I approaching a turning point in my life now? Yes, undoubtedly.
Is this, sudden urge to clean and sort every closet in my house a symbolic act
of moving into the last phase of my life? Yes, I believe it is, figuratively
and literally. And so, in my spiritual life I am at the same sort of
crossroads. No longer do I have the decades spread before me to do something ‘great’
for God. I have, at best, a few years, maybe a few more, like the verse in
Psalm 90:10 KJV, “The days of our years are threescore and ten, and if by reason of strength they are fourscore…” Maybe, today will be the day that a heart
attack, a car wreck, will take me home and I will say with delight, “Hi Jesus,
I’m home. I’m so glad I finally made it.”
Really, I’m not being morbid, I’m
being practical. There is a verse in Psalm I like, “Teach me to number my
days so I will apply my heart unto wisdom.” Psalm 90:12 KJV. Wisdom includes for me, a relinquishment of my attachment to stuff, an
increasing ability to put the substance of my existence into a small moving van
and physically and metaphorically tie up loose ends. At work, part of the
assessment tool we use with our clients to assess any suicidal ideology is the
question, “Are you giving away valuable possessions?”
Well, I don’t have to worry about
anyone thinking that about me, I don’t have any valuable possessions. I've spent my life, money and time on my family. I didn't save, I didn't collect
anything, no objects of value. We went camping, they did sports, they rode bikes, they needed this, that and the other thing. I maintained
homes with yards; things that cost money
yes, but can’t be measured in monetary terms. Hopefully, when all is said and
done those investments, created happy
memories that someday, maybe, they will
take out and examine as the years go by and realize, no matter what else, they were loved.
So for now, I am left with closets,
and the sudden urge to clean, sort, discard. A ritual perhaps, a goodbye?? Yes,
but more than that a preparation for the next stage of life. In my through my
Bible reading, I just read Matthew 26 this morning. In this chapter, the story
unfolds of Jesus being taken prisoner in the garden. He asks his disciples
several times to wait with him, while He prays. Both times, they fall asleep
and He is left alone. When the guards come and seize Jesus, verse 56 tells the
story, “And then all the disciples forsook Him and fled.”
Jesus knew what it was to be alone.
He never married, He never had children. He faced the most difficult times in
His life without family or friends around Him. For me, being alone now, facing
this next phase of my life, (old age and death), this is comforting to me.
Hebrews says, “We have a great High Priest who is touched with our infirmities,
(weaknesses)” Jesus, who created the world and all it’s “stuff” never owned a
home or a car. He didn't have closets of stuff, weighing Him down. He traveled
light.
So, along with working on cleaning
out the closets of my mind, and heart and memories, I will begin cleaning out
the literal closets of my home. The weird thing is I can pretty much use the
same questions for both; “Do I need this? Can it do anyone else any good? And,
Do I need to get rid of it?”
Today spreads before me. It is Sunday
here and much of me longs to drive up the Columbia Gorge. My soul longs to
drink in the beauty of the River. To hike a favorite trail or two and sit
beside a stream, letting my feet soak in the ice-cold mountain water. I am in a
strait betwixt the two; so much of me wants to do the next right thing and tend
to the closets and the rest of me wants to escape to the hills while there is
still time and strength; storing the memories away for the days when I can no
longer seek the hills, but have four walls surrounding me and old age has set
the barriers around my mobility.
I will pray. I realize even for this
brief moment God might have an opinion
of what I’m supposed to do. I comfort myself with the fact I did have yesterday
afternoon; sitting alone on an ocean dune, the skies and birds and waves
washing the work week from my soul. I am so blessed.
So, to those of you reading this who
have your own “closets” to sort and clean I encourage you to begin. Whether
mental or physical or both, getting rid of the baggage we don’t need will help
us in our life journey. My mom had a plaque in our home, I think in our
kitchen,
Only one life will soon be past,
only what’s done for Christ will last.
For what moments I have left, hopefully
this will increasingly be my prayer. May the memories I help make not be tied
to stuff, but to acts of kindness.
The only thing I can say to that is this, “Only
Jesus.”
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