Tuesday, February 21, 2017
My grandmother's home, at her death, was very streamlined and her possessions were few. Many of her drawers contained only a few items, leaving loads of empty spaces. Her storage shelves in the garage had a few kitchen appliances (waffle iron, blender, etc.) that were clean, wrapped within trash or other bags, and closed with twist ties. The areas/items that were "full up" were her china hutch, her desk, and her clothes closet. It fell to me to pack up and ready her home for my parents to come through and bring me her furniture in a trailer. I did it in a weekend.
(At the time, sadly, there wasn't room in the trailer for everything; not imagining he would do so, my dad arbitrarily chose to leave behind her desk and I still feel a pang about that. Had I been more proactive I would have somehow wound up with that desk. Essentially it was abandoned, so I don't know what became of it. Years later my father gifted me with a desk his father bought in the 60s, but although it's nice to have, it doesn't tug on my heartstrings the way my grandmother's desk would have.)
On the other hand, it took me an entire year to go through and empty, via one method or another, my parents' house and garage. I was over there almost every evening after work, and for several hours on Saturdays and Sundays. The house had three floors, and even the garage had two extra rooms.
So I can't help but think what it might be like for my son when my time comes (far down the road, I hope). And how inconvenient it will be for him to have to dispose of or liquidate my belongings. So little by little I purge. Actually, I've been purging off and on for many years now. Because what I purge will at least be that much less for him and my daughter-in-love to deal with. I'd like my home to be a lot closer to being cleared out in a weekend, rather than a year. Not that it would take a year; it's a very small house. But I figure the fewer decisions my son has to waste his time on with regards to my possessions, the better. It's a gift I want to give him.
I doubt I'll ever be as streamlined as my grandmother, but these days I do think in terms of "one layer" of possessions in any given place, excepting clothing. And my piano music. And my Victoria magazines. So over the years that I've had my blog, I've donated many things, and simply disposed of some. I can't be bothered selling things because their monetary value is not worth my time to do so. I would rather read, write, sketch, play a little piano, and do needlework when my shoulders let me (which they'd rather I didn't).
So, for example, the Christmas Bears and The Bunnies Take Tea bunnies have long been gone (Goodwill); many books I've shared have gone to the library; clothing to Goodwill; and surplus kitchenware to Goodwill as well. Letters I've saved for as long as fifty years are being reread and shredded. Some from friends and family were returned to their writers (they are about their lives, after all). Some I still can't part with. But rest assured, if letters and photos make it to auction, someone will probably be curious enough to pay a pittance for them. (Strangers reading my family's letters does not appeal to me.) Photos are being gone through and a box has been sent on to my nephew (the new family historian), with at least another to follow. Annually I try to shred any insurance, bank, and "tax" documents that don't impact anything that might come up.
I have a ways to go, but I'm gaining ground. I bought my bedroom furniture in the early 80s when I was still married. It's oak and massive with large, deep drawers. Out of fifteen such drawers, only three contain clothing. The rest are full of "keepsakes" or paperwork that I will continue to go through and pare down.
Why? Because besides loving my son enough to want to spare him the ordeal of going through what was, perhaps, important only to me, I have come to the point where I feel It's Too Much Stuff. I don't want so much stuff. Most of it was not of my choosing anyway. It came to me via great aunts, great grandmother, grandmother, and mother. And I loved that it did, and I enjoyed it for years. But now a simple representation will be sufficient, I think.
The excess has to go. And I'm not even a hoarder! Just a steward of the keepsakes that I've inherited, and what few interests I've indulged in. The weeding out is a process best begun while one has the energy, don't you think? Not when we're on our sickbeds or deathbeds wishing we had done thus and such with our homes and belongings.
I guess I have this on my mind because I've let go of enough already that I'm getting closer to making the really tough decisions (from my perspective) on what goes and what stays. When I can look in my drawers and see "one layer" therein, and the same for my shelves, I will be one happy camper! (Even happier than I am now!)
Do I have any like-minded readers out there?
Wednesday, February 15, 2017
Here I am! I stand at the door and knock.
If anyone hears my voice and opens the door,
I will come in and eat with that person, and they with me.
I'm praying everyone has. Just in case you haven't "set your table" yet, here's what you do:
If you declare with your mouth, "Jesus is Lord," and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. For it is with your heart that you believe and are justified, and it is with your mouth that you profess your faith and are saved.
Only the Father knows the exact day of Christ's return, but time is running short for setting our tables. Don't be too late. If we don't do our part, Jesus won't do His part on our behalf. Time is of the essence.
And just because Grandma or Mom or Pops was/is saved, that won't help you get into Heaven. You must open the Door.
Sunday, February 12, 2017
|M A Hadley|
Being a caregiver provides opportunity for ample training on how to serve another...selflessly. I must have been in need of much training because I have helped to care for my mother, my elderly neighbor lady, and for nearly the past two years, my brother.
My attitude isn't perfect by far, but it has improved immensely over the years. I have gone from secretly grumbling and groaning, whining and griping, to the joy of anticipating needs and performing tasks in accordance with the desires of my "patient" and not my own wishes. Because really, why not do things just the way they want? It means so much to them and takes such little extra effort on the caregiver's part.
That's the epitome of being a servant: when one can be a servant for the sheer joy of it. And because we know our servanthood pleases Jesus.
The following is from In This House of Brede by Rumer Godden, when after first refusing, Dame Philippa agrees to be the assistant novice mistress to Sister Polycarp:
Dame Beatrice: "Dame Philippa has fought a painful and powerful battle with herself and won."
But Dame Agnes shook her head. "Dame Philippa won't have won until she can do what she is asked, what is needed, without a battle," she said.
|This devotional series around the four seasons by Vonette Zachary Bright is very good.|
Make Me A Servant
by Kelly Willard
Make me a servant, humble and meek,
Lord, let me lift up those who are weak,
And may the prayer of my heart always be:
Make me a servant, make me a servant,
Make me a servant today.
Copyright 1983 by Maranatha! Music
Have a scrumptiously Happy Valentine's Day!