One Step At A Time

Progress! Nothing huge, but I did sort through "stuff" for over an hour today. I went through my shoes and put about 7 pair in the "to go" box. Not sure where yet it will go, but it WILL go! I also added some books off of the shelf in the bedroom and some from the family room wall shelves. I made it completely through the kitchen and living room, including an old chest that had stuff hidden within it.

This has been easy. Nothing emotional or hard to decide. I imagine it might take a few sweeps through each room to totally rid us of all of the extras, but I think I have a quite satisfactory pile growing. That's another problem -- where to put it while it waits. Then I have to decide if I am going to put out the effort to list anything online or if I want to go about it the lazy lady's way and just put it all in a garage sale. I won't get as much money, but it will be gone. Oh, the joy I will feel when so much space is empty...


If I want to think about what could happen to me if I delay too long, I can simply read one of my favorite childhood poems...



Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout
Would not take the garbage out!
She'd scour the pots and scrape the pans,
Candy the yams and spice the hams,
And though her daddy would scream and shout,
She simply would not take the garbage out.

And so it piled up to the ceilings:
Coffee grounds, potato peelings,
Brown bananas, rotten peas,
Chunks of sour cottage cheese.
It filled the can, it covered the floor,
It cracked the window and blocked the door

With bacon rinds and chicken bones,
Drippy ends of ice cream cones,
Prune pits, peach pits, orange peel,
Gloppy glumps of cold oatmeal,
Pizza crusts and withered greens,
Soggy beans and tangerines,
Crusts of black burned buttered toast,
Gristly bits of beefy roasts. . .

The garbage rolled on down the hall,
It raised the roof, it broke the wall. . .
Greasy napkins, cookie crumbs,
Globs of gooey bubble gum,
Cellophane from green baloney,
Rubbery blubbery macaroni,
Peanut butter, caked and dry,
Curdled milk and crusts of pie,
Moldy melons, dried-up mustard,
Eggshells mixed with lemon custard,
Cold french fried and rancid meat,
Yellow lumps of Cream of Wheat.

At last the garbage reached so high
That it finally touched the sky.
And all the neighbors moved away,
And none of her friends would come to play.
And finally Sarah Cynthia Stout said,
"OK, I'll take the garbage out!"
But then, of course, it was too late. . .
The garbage reached across the state,
From New York to the Golden Gate.
And there, in the garbage she did hate,
Poor Sarah met an awful fate,
That I cannot now relate
Because the hour is much too late.
But children, remember Sarah Stout
And always take the garbage out!

Shel Silverstein, 1974

Too Much STUFF

Today's Shout Out goes out the friend I have had the longest who I still stay in touch with. Happy Birthday Marti! Is this a milestone birthday? Hmm, me thinks it is. I love you, I treasure you. I miss you:(


Here I sit at the computer when I should be going though STUFF, to get rid of it. I call it avoidance. Yet, I can't think of anything better right now than to simplify. I think about how much better my life will be with alot less stuff. Yet, here I sit.

I am not afraid of work. It will take quite alot of work to get rid of all of this stuff. But I think it is more about the decisions I must make before the stuff is gone. It is about facing the things that tell me that so many phases of my life are past me now. It is about trying to decide whether to throw away, give away, to donate or to keep. Maybe I will get rid of some little It and then, next week, I will need It. But if I keep It, I will have to find a place for It. If I don't, then I won't be able to find It to use It anyway.

Why do we like stuff? Why do we acquire it? Is it even the stuff itself that we want? Or is it the charge we get out of thinking about having it, or when we buy it, that we like? Is it because we think it will make us so much happier? Or make our life so much better or easier? This is not my personal struggle, but not keeping stuff is a struggle for me sometimes.

Once we acquire it, why do we keep it rather than getting rid of it after we have used it for it's purpose? Is it the bittersweet walk through time we must take, to rid ourselves of it, that we don't want to face? Because we want to be the Hero -- when someone needs something, we'll have it for them? The fear of not having? Maybe I will log my journey out of stuff here in this place on the web, so far seen only by me.

Misting up -- no, outright weeping -- while looking at clothes that, it seems only last week, fit my grown man of a son. Or multiple outfits just the same, but with different colored shirts from when I used to dress my (then) little boys in matching clothes. I don't need all of them for my youngest baby. Just one. But how do I say goodbye to those outfits?

Or a tiny red dress that takes me immediately back to a hotel room and a tiny brown head with bright knowing eyes focused on me. That first glimpse of my precious daughter with her soft head of curls, waiting for me. The car ride there, knowing that in 15...,10..., 5 minutes I would meet my daughter for the first time. The moments just before my life as A Mom of a Daughter would begin, and all that has happened since that time.

Or The Tan Box with the Green Lid. In it the never used blanket crocheted by my mother-in-law for a baby that was never to see it. The photographs. The cards of sharing sadness. The ultrasound pictures of a small beating heart. The blanket and clothing he wore shortly, as I held him those only moments. I won't get rid of those. Some days I want to look at them. I want to grieve not having him, and I want to grieve the loss of the girl I was before that day. But not today.

The trunk with quilt squares made by my grandmother or her mother. The thermometer and box of sand dollars including a poem about sand dollars. The plaid pants, so loud they had to belong to my grandpa. The dictionary from 1939. The wondering about what they were thinking as they lived their lives.

The list goes on...

Could it be that in going through all of these things that we face our own mortality?

"Don't cry because it's over, be thankful it happened at all".

Okay, I must stop now. Today's avoidance needs my attention.

"But godliness with contentment is great gain. For we brought nothing into the world, and we can take nothing out of it." I Timothy 6:6-7

More to read about Stuff:

This is the very best article I have read about this topic. "The Cult of the Next Thing"
http://www.ctlibrary.com/ct/1999/september6/9ta062.html

http://www.thestoryofstuff.com/ (This shows some good info, but I don't agree with all of it)

http://www.andybrain.com/qna/2007/12/07/annie-leonards-the-story-of-stuff-review-and-analysis/ A review of The Story of Stuff

The words to the song by Diamond Rio called "Stuff":

Catalogs fillin' up the mailbox.

Home shopping on the cable box.

And www dot...

Oh there's no escape.

Delivery truck coming up 'round the bend,

Beep, beep, beep, just backing in.

Sign here and here and here again,

'Cause it's no money down, no payments till

Your whole place is cram packed filled with

Stuff (stuff) stack it on stack it on up

(Stuff) never gonna ever get enough (stuff)

Oh it's treasure till it's mine then it ain't worth a dime

It's stuff (stuff) spreading like weeds

Dragging me under in an endless sea of stuff

(Stuff) There ain't no end

Got to get a bigger place so I can move in

More stuff

It's getting late but it's alright,

The get-it-all mart opened up all night--

You can catch it all with a quick swipe.

It's easier everyday.

SUV's and mini vans,

Parading 'round in caravans,

Toting off more than their tires can stand.

'Cause it's no money down, no payments till

Every square inch of the whole world's filled with

Stuff (stuff) stack it on stack it on up

(Stuff) never gonna ever get enough (stuff)

Oh it's treasure till it's mine then it ain't worth a dime

It's stuff (stuff) spreading like weeds

Dragging me under in an endless sea of stuff

(Stuff) There ain't no end

Got to get a bigger place so I can move in

More stuff

Drag it in, pack it in

The man with the most

He just wins more stuff

Stuff (stuff) stack it on stack it on up

(Stuff) never gonna ever get enough (stuff)

Oh it's treasure till it's mine then it ain't worth a dime

It's stuff (stuff) spreading like weeds

Dragging me under in an endless sea of stuff

(Stuff) There ain't no end

Got to get a bigger place so I can move in

More stuff

Being Me

A sweet, new, encouraging friend made a comment about me being a "special person" a couple weeks ago. I don't often feel so special. Unique maybe. Weird? Sometimes I feel like I am called to live my life so much differently than "the norm". Lord, am I PECULIAR?

I mean, come on. We homeschool, but even that doesn't seem to be out of the ordinary enough. We have to decide to homeschool DIFFERENTLY than so many counterparts. I had a baby at 38. Most of my 38 and older friends are "done" having kids. I have a baby and I have a grown child, and quite a few in between. And other situations in our lives this year have definitely made me feel all alone (yes, weird) in many ways. Different than my friends. Sometimes it sounds so fun to throw right and wrong, can't and won't and should have to the wind, and just do what everyone else does.

So, does God call us to be different? Unique? Please, NOT peculiar! Is this scripture for me, for today? What does it mean? Hmmm...

I will think on this further, but for today's musing, I'm thinking it means that I am supposed to be ME. The real Me. The woman God created me to be. To do the things He created me to do. Yes, they may be different things. Unique. Peculiar.

But, mostly, they make me special. You should be so lucky:)

1 Peter 2:9 "But ye are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, an holy nation, a peculiar people; that ye should shew forth the praises of him who hath called you out of darkness into his marvelous light;"