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  • Letting Go of What I Can’t Afford to Hold Onto

    Letting Go of What I Can’t Afford to Hold Onto

    In the middle of 2017, we downsized our home with a big move. Up until the move, we had decluttered what I thought was close to 50 percent of everything we owned.

    At least that was my goal: to get rid of 50 percent of everything.

    And we needed to simplify our home because we had a lot of stuff! I naturally collect things, store things, memorialize things. Add that to a blended family with my husband’s house full of belongings, and we had way.too.much.stuff!

    During the decluttering phase, I actually counted 24 blankets. So 12 blankets went straight to the donation box. Goodbye half of our board games. Goodbye half of our Christmas decorations. Goodbye books galore. Goodbye much, much more!

    I was actually pretty proud of myself…until the “shaming mover” arrived at our house on moving day. He continued to make snarky comments about how I needed to have a garage sale and I had too much stuff. Moving day is stressful as is but I found myself several times hiding in my closet–the “protected space” that the movers had designated as a space they wouldn’t touch.

    I prayed to God and texted friends: “Am I a hoarder?”

    This guy definitely thought I was.

    Even with all our calculating, there were things that couldn’t fit on the U-Haul trucks. Some of this extra stuff was easy to let go. But the gorgeous wooden tabletop that my first husband had made with his father is the one thing that broke my heart to leave. I asked each child and my mother-in-law if they wanted it. Nope. And I realized that I was holding onto things with precious memories that no one else wanted.

    Why was I holding on? I said goodbye to it.

    Of course, we went the economy route for our move and ended up driving a caravan of cars and U-Haul trucks 100 miles. When we started unpacking the trucks at the new house, we discovered that the movers hadn’t utilized the space efficiently and we could’ve packed a lot more on. I could’ve kept the tabletop!

    However, being forced to make the hard decision of letting go of something I’d held onto for the sake of others gave me the gift of letting go of more. I donated my first wedding dress–rather than keep it hermetically sealed in its container–for who? My daughter was already married and didn’t wear the dress. I imagined someone being blessed by wearing this dress at her wedding. I donated gifts that had been given to me that I no longer used. I donated silver items and imagined someone being so excited to find them at Goodwill.

    I finally gave away boxes and boxes of scrapbooking materials that I would never use to a sweet niece who loves them. I had actually offered and then reconsidered several times. This move helped me finally make the cut.

    I had a dozen houseplants; I now have four. I finally got the courage to let go of a plant that we’d received at my first husband’s funeral. It was scraggly and shed leaves constantly. I had cared for this lopsided plant, knowing it needed to go, until this move when I mustered more courage to let go of things I couldn’t afford to hang onto anymore.

    It’s not really that they were costing me financially, but they were costing me a sense of order, lightness, and peace. With every trip to Goodwill, I noticed a lightness of spirit. I relish that I’m blessing someone and in a sense cleansing my home.

    I’m pursuing a much simpler home. And it feels really good!

    Another benefit is that letting go has made me stop and think twice before buying more “stuff.” Do I really need it? Will I be donating it soon?

    I’m grateful for this letting go process to determine what I really value and what I really need. I may not be completely at a 50% downsize but I’m very close.

    Getting rid of the excess feels so good! Who knows, I may even up it to 60% this year!

     

     

  • Through the Fog, Help Us Find You, God

    Through the Fog, Help Us Find You, God

    I drove home through thick fog last night and I realized it was a picture of how my heart and soul and mind had been feeling this week.

    You see, the Sutherland Springs First Baptist Church massacre happened only five days ago. And I haven’t been able to get it off my mind.

    It doesn’t help that I read every news story, every account, every breaking detail. But there are two reasons I think I do that.

    #1. The people of Sutherland Springs First Baptist Church are MY people. They are OUR people.

    I’ve spent my profession serving churches like this sweet one. Churches that matter in their communities. Churches that matter to God.

    And since I awoke from a Sunday afternoon nap to this nightmare, I have continued to cry out for God to pour out His grace and mercy to this church and community.

    Our people have been attacked–the people who show up for hurting children and families in Sutherland Springs. The people who celebrate life’s milestones with their neighbors. The people who have demonstrated the truth and hope of the gospel even as bullets rained down on them. The people who trusted in and worshipped an all-powerful and loving God.

    And He is all-powerful and loving–regardless of what an evil man rained down on these innocents. Nothing that happened on that Sunday morning in Texas changes who God is.

    #2. The people of Sutherland Springs First Baptist Church FEEL like my people.

    I grew up in a small town in Oklahoma with only two churches in town. And it was the First Baptist Church that I attended when I did.

    When I imagine the terror for these sweet people, I see those people from my country church. Elderly Alma and Lela leading worship. Thirteen-year-old Tina playing the one piano. The impromptu choir that is beckoned every Sunday to “come on up.” Young families with squirmy children. And Brother House faithfully preaching a sermon.

    It is these people I imagine enduring their last moments in the house of God, terrorized.

    When I heard about the brave neighbors (like sheepdogs) coming to the aid of this flock of sheep being attacked by a ravenous wolf, I imagine the houses around my little country church.

    These people ARE our people.

    This could’ve happened in our home church. It could’ve happened in the churches we grew up in. It could’ve happened anywhere.

    And it is happening.

    That’s why I felt like the thick fog that enabled me to barely see in front of my car best captured how I feel these days. I’m sure the fog will lift. But I don’t believe the threats will disappear.

    And I’m sure that even in the fog, that my God–all-powerful and all loving–is present with us.

    I’ve read a lot of great posts that have helped me with perspective about suffering in this world, about the reality of a very evil one in the world, about mental illness, about the issue of gun control, and so much more.

    The words that helped my heart the most–and what I’m hanging onto in the fog–is a poem that Jesse T. Jackson, a friend and co-worker, shared that’s based on Job 38:

    “I Can’t Wait To Hold Your Hand”

    The darkness feels so heavy as storms pass one after another,
    Are you there? Do you care? We are like a ship without a rudder,
    Lost at sea without a clear direction, being tossed to and fro,
    Everyone is tired, plus confused, and the crew doesn’t want to row,
    Our focus has gotten blurry and all we want are answers to our issues,
    The problems we’ve created for ourselves, we throw them at You,
    Still asking are you there? Do you care? How could this ever be?
    But you are standing beside us, in the midst of the troubled sea,
    You’ve never left us, your hands softly grip around our heart,
    Whispering in each of our ears “you’ve been here from the start,”
    While we were dust, You were the one that spoke life into our breath,
    You are the One that rises the sun and lights the stars,
    You are the One that commands the seas and bounds the dark,
    Your canvas for art is everything my eyes can see,
    Yet I question your power and your love you have for me,
    Are you there? Do you care? You still answer my faithlessness,
    “Always, forever, no one can take you, not even the evil from the abyss,
    Trust me child, no matter the chaos that occurs in your view,
    I can’t wait to hold your hand in the Kingdom I’ve prepared for you.”

    (Job 38)

    Through the fog, help us find you, God!

  • The Beauty of Transformation

    The Beauty of Transformation

    Want to know one of the deep secrets to freedom from diet addiction/idolatry, scale worship, weight loss obsession, and recurring gluttony?

    It’s not really a secret. It’s right there in Scripture. It’s just that we don’t fully grasp it–yet.

    So here’s what I want you to do, God helping you: Take your everyday, ordinary life—your sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking-around life—and place it before God as an offering. Embracing what God does for you is the best thing you can do for him. Don’t become so well-adjusted to your culture that you fit into it without even thinking. Instead, fix your attention on God. You’ll be changed from the inside out. Readily recognize what he wants from you, and quickly respond to it. Unlike the culture around you, always dragging you down to its level of immaturity, God brings the best out of you, develops well-formed maturity in you.” (Romans 12:1-2, Message)

    Such plain words! Here’s the New International Version:

    “Therefore, I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God—this is your true and proper worship. Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.” (Romans 12:1-2, NIV)

    There’s so much to unpack here.

    The key thing I want to focus on in this post is transformation. And isn’t that what we’ve been longing for all these years?

    “Be transformed by the renewing of your mind”–the Greek word for transformed is Μεταμορφουσθε. It’s the root word of metamorphosis–the very transformation that a caterpillar goes through to become a beautiful butterfly.

    God is calling us to morph/change/transform. And the beautiful creation that we’ll become has nothing to do with a clothing size or number on the scale.

    The beautiful creation that you are becoming is someone who has been radically, thoroughly, and universally changed–both outward and inward.

    I have this dream–maybe a vision–of hundreds of thousands of women who love Jesus walking in this transformation–no longer bound by low self-esteem, out-of-control appetites, or the futile search for the “perfect” diet.

    I have this dream of a mighty force of women who are so transformed spiritually because of this limp–this wound–this thorn in the flesh–that they present their bodies as a living sacrifice for God to use to transform the world!

    No longer are they driven by conforming to the world’s pattern but they are so radically transformed from the inside out that they storm the gates of hell!

    I have this dream that women in the world who yearn for freedom and transformation will come to faith in Jesus when they realize that it is only Jesus and the truth of God’s Word that can truly set us free.

    Won’t you dream with me?