Serenity Now! Making Peace with My Sentimentality

Something that brings me great satisfaction as an adult is not wasting food. My soul feels happy when we use up every bit of something before it goes bad or stale. Produce is the trickiest food item for us and I know we aren’t alone in this struggle. You know how it goes: run out of salad greens one week, buy more the next, throw them all away. Ugh!

But it’s not just groceries. I have a hard time throwing other things away, too.

My walk-in closet is a disaster. I’ve got things stashed on the floor against the walls, and day by day, they are migrating toward the center, making it tricky to find a safe place to “walk-in.” Some of the clutter in there is because of delayed decisions. Some is not having a proper place for important papers. (When we moved to this house (ahem, 6 years ago, but whatever), I lost my built-in desk area.) But most of it is there because there’s a sentimental attachment.

I find it incredibly comforting to have evidence nearby of things worth remembering. Photos, notes, greeting cards and the like prove that we were here, that we loved, that we enjoyed life, that we valued our time together. My stashes (yes, plural. Surprise! it’s not just my closet.) help me hold on to gratitude for the people, experiences and learning that brought me to “here.”

I’ve tried to clean up the beautiful mess. Sorting through a pile for the umpteenth time, trying to make it smaller is honestly painful for me. At the same time, there is Joy as I revisit the notes I took at a retreat or conference, see the photo of my grandfathers shaking hands on my parents’ wedding day, and read the handmade cards from our kids’ elementary days. More than a few times, I’ve cried in the closet – tears of joy, remembrance, sorrow, laughter. In a way, revisiting these mementos helps me embrace the season we’re in since I have a tangible way of remembering days gone by.

I come by it honestly. I heard Gramma say proudly (more than once), “I have every card you kids ever gave me.” And then there’s Dad’s desk. He may be the King of Piles. But he can lay his hand on the file, note or article he needs at any moment. It’s amazing. (He’s organized in a “lots of piles” way.)

Recently, I’ve been working through a book called, Love the House You’re In, by Paige Rein. (Find it here.) One of the exercises is to recall the home you grew up in – how it felt, what made it “home.” My Mom is a great decorator, and she is skilled at creating a serene environment. So, “no piles.” (She is organized in a “clutter-free” way.) I’m sure my room must have driven her bonkers when I was growing up. She tried so hard to teach me her ways; I remember many Saturday mornings when she declared, “the word for the day is “Throwaway!”

So I find myself on a quest to make our home a bit more serene – to have more clutter-free spaces. Or at least to be able to see the floor of my closet. And yet, I have these stacks of memories to sort through. Will I part with all the things? I cannot. I will not. But I can find a better spot to store the treasures I can’t say goodbye to, I can capture many of the memories by writing about them in lieu of keeping artifacts and I will pray that when my own memory no longer holds up, my kids (and theirs) will fill in the gaps for me.

A verse that speaks to me: “Mary kept all these things to herself, holding them dear, deep within herself.” (Luke 2:19 – The Message)

(It doesn’t say, “Mary treasured all this in her heart, and in her closet,
and under her bed. NOTED!)