The bag

I’m not a hoarder or even really a collector.  I’m actually not even a little sentimental (to a fault) and have tossed all sorts of possessions most would’ve hung on to.  I’m just not into keeping items that take up space but serve no real purpose any more.  So when people have asked if we’re decluttering and doesn’t it feel good to get rid of stuff as we move, I have to be honest.  It’s really not a whole lot different than normal.

But what always surprises me is no matter how many loads I’ve taken to Good Will or how thoroughly I’ve ascertained this is everything, I’ll inevitably need to start another collection bag that very afternoon.  In my mind this is craziness.  Why can’t I just clear the clutter, get rid of the excess and have things tidy for more than a couple of hours?

Perplexing for sure. We’ll take a load with say a desk, coats and planting pots, snow boots, baskets and old summer toys, that kind of thing.  I’ll think we’re done, surely we’ve gathered it all.  But before the day is up, I’ll have to fluff open a new garbage bag and set up shop in the very same spot I’d just cleared.  I’ll have found an old pair of sunglasses.  A shirt that just came out of the laundry, decidedly too small for Bronwyn now.  Pajamas from last Christmas that ride above Callum’s ankles.  A decoration that doesn’t fit Avery’s purposes this week.  And on we’ll go until the new bag is bursting its seams and something needs to be done with it.  And the cycle continues.

I laugh at the absurdity of it all.  Why can’t we have one solid Saturday cleaning and reach all the corners, gather all the junk and just be done with it?  Why is there always more, why am I never able to scratch the entry, “Take Good Will,” off my to-do list permanently?

And then I’m amused because I see the lesson in it. I get it.

Because no matter how freshly I’ve started the morning, having dropped off the goods from yesterday, I will inevitably need a new bag to collect the litter of a new day.

I’ll need to re-think a conversation and apologize to a friend, I’ll have to slow down and give a hug, I’ll need to backtrack and try again, I’ll need to swallow my pride and make amends.  My bag is full by the end of the day.  Every day.  And I need to let God in on it all.

No matter how big a load I finally get rid of, how tough the apology was, how long I’d been hanging on to a grudge and finally let it go, or how sincerely I pray and ask for help, or when I finally admit my pride, I realize there are still always a million little things I’ve forgotten to add to the bag, that I need to repent of and change.

It’s praying, coming clean, admitting our shortcomings, committing to doing better.  Regardless of how genuine we are one day, there will always be items we failed to acknowledge.  Sometimes we have no idea they were there, like a hidden temper or a jealous streak waiting for the right conditions or an old coloring book or pack of Go Fish cards tucked behind a bed.  Things just continue to stream through our house and creep into our minds and lives that we have to constantly contend with, a new plastic fudge container or shiny Dollar Store cookie tray that once carried treats from friends that we just aren’t really interested in storing, a misunderstanding we never saw coming, plastic trinkets from a birthday party last weekend, an ego we thought we’d left at the door.  I’m constantly collecting items for my bag, issues I need to talk to Heavenly Father about.

I just think it’s worth keeping a bag close by—the lines of communication open, with both God and everyone else.  No point in thinking you’ve made your last drop-off as you brush your hands together in a sigh of relief before you drive off.  No, before the day is up you’ll have found an old water bottle under the couch that no one’s seen or needed for months, you’ll have been short with a family member over nothing that matters.  Before you’ve even got your coat off you’ll run across an old Hi Ho Cherry-o game from 12 years ago that someone dragged out, you’ll notice an off-thought running across your mind.  Not to worry. Start a new bag, apologize, say a little prayer, vow to be a little more thorough—careful—next time.  Just keep the bag handy.

Sweet

Over the past few years I’ve started to admit I’ve got a weakness for sugar.  No surprise there.  Just one of the zillion shortcomings on my list.  But one I thought I should probably get a handle on.  My tummy is running out of room; it’s not pretty and you know how I hate shopping for new jeans.  But you can guess how my intention is working out.  Not well.  Not well at all.  

Except for the mornings.  I’ve cut back on jam on my toast some days (maybe 2 out of 7, baby steps) and I’ve quit putting sugar on my Grape Nuts (although I still sprinkle a bit on my grapefruit).  I thought it’d be a major sacrifice of taste.  And to be honest, it was a little dull without it at first.  But unexpectedly, I’ve actually gotten used to it.  And I like it.  Because instead of sweet, I’m forced to pay attention to the salty taste of just butter on my toast and the nutty flavor and crunchy texture of my Grape Nuts.  I’ve omitted sugar in my other cereals that I’ve grown up always frosting with a tiny layer and haven’t been as disappointed as I thought I’d be.  Just yesterday I was trying to finish up the Rice Chex (we’re down to the dregs of our pantry; yes, I’m also aware that it has zero fiber and there’s nothing nutritious about it; my waste-not value was trumping my eat-healthy one) and even though it’s a pretty plain taste, I stuck with my plan and was again surprised that I could enjoy cereal for its very own taste instead of needing a sugar boost.  Just sort of interesting.

And again this morning I was making bread bowls and browning the stew meat for dinner and, out of habit and because I like to maximize (also on that list of deficiencies I’m working on), I searched for a talk or something educational to listen to. It’s just me, I thrive in efficiency mode and rely heavily on all sorts of audio implements.  But this day I wasn’t feeling it, my brain already felt cluttered and choked; so I turned instead to my Peaceful Christmas station on Pandora.  Just instrumental background tunes of the season.  I thought I’d feel antsy just listening to music, not maximizing my time; but it was like the sugar.  I was surprised with how unexpectedly pleasant the experience was all by itself.

I mulled all this over—the week’s discoveries—and asked myself, How often have I coated my days with what I thought were enhancements that really didn’t add much to my life after all?

In the case of sugar, it’s obvious I’d chosen taste over health for so long that it simply became habit.  But unnecessary.  The sugar just masked the authentic taste, which is of course different, but very palatable and even enjoyable.  Same with my background choice.  I mistakenly assumed my morning would be enriched by adding an educational element; yet what I really needed was to let my mind settle.  While I applaud educational experiences in nearly any form, my higher goal really is a centered spirit.  Most of the time when I’m cooking I like to hear a little from the outside world, to learn, to expand my thinking.  But on this day, my spirit cried out for peace. I’m so grateful I listened.

I’m wondering how often I’ve mistakenly allowed habit to make decisions for me instead of being more mindful.  Sometimes I’ve gone along as I always have without really assessing whether my choices are actually improving the quality of my life, just as I’d always done with sugar and listening to my little talks.

An obvious example comes to mind.  A young family with five littles, all 8 and under.  Valuing educational experiences the way I do, I insisted we attend any community events available to us.  My double stroller took us all over the town: the zoo, the library, the parks, story times, any activities I could find that could teach or inspire or promote thinking.  And for the most part it worked out just fine.  Which is why we carried on for so many years, moving on to soccer and 4-H, scouts and music, karate and art lessons.  Our calendar was nothing—seriously nothing—compared to most every other mom I know.  But there came a time when I knew we were a slave to our schedule rather than it enriching our lives.  And so we temporarily bowed out of most of it, paring it down to a mere skeleton of its previous form.  And have stayed here ever since.  It’s the same as realizing how I had prevented myself from really appreciating what was under the sugar coating all those years.  I’m completely content with the life we’ve adopted, we’re enjoying a lot of down time to just be.  Interestingly, I don’t feel we’ve lost out at all.  Rather, we’re tasting and appreciating what was there all along, more free time to dance, to tinker on the piano, to build, to pass away the afternoons with friends, to play games, to read, to research, to jump on the tramp, to frolic in the snow.  All of which could’ve been relished for so many additional years if only we’d thought to be more mindful of our choices.

Related is our experience with Christmas this year, since we’re moving on the 15th.  Unfortunately we haven’t been able to do as many of our normal traditions as usual.  Our props are tucked away and we don’t want to make a mess by pulling out decorations and having to re-pack in a week.  We’re keeping things pretty low-key; and yet, I sense the lesson is the same.

I think we’re feeling the Christmas spirit even without a tree and lights.  We haven’t strung cranberries or popcorn.  Or made our miniature gingerbread man ornaments.  We haven’t decorated candied houses or trains.  Or turned off the main lights and basked in the tiny ones that glitter in among the freshly-cut boughs on top of our cabinets.  Our cards from friends are stashed as soon as they come instead of hanging about, greeting us and brightening our walls.  But we’ve had hot chocolate nearly every day of the season.  And a Callum-built fire in our fireplace most afternoons.  We’ve watched tons of little clips about Christ and service and inspiring people all over the world.  We’ve celebrated at our traditional Norweigan Christmas night.  We’ve watched my favorite Christmas special as a family.  We’ve got plans to see the bell-ringers.  We went to the Stroll in the mountains and found our tree with friends.  We’ve been reading scriptures and old-fashioned, heart-warming stories from the two Christmas books I left out.  We’ve done all our shopping and wrapped around 154 presents.  The kids have given little gifts with their money.  We’ve loved reading about families we miss and seeing their growing kids.  We’re thrilled with thoughtful treats from friends.  And our favorite part of all has been the music.  We are tuned in to all kinds, from Frank Sinatra, Percy Faith and the Mormon Tabernacle Choir to Pentatonix, Eclipse, and Lady Antebellum.  We are constantly contending for the keyboard and mouse to share little videos with each other.  Music has brought the Christmas Spirit into our home maybe more than anything else, especially when Bronwyn plays hymns on the piano and we feel the warm spirit touch our hearts with their messages and beautiful strains.  In small ways, we’re feeling it.

Along with our music, we have acquired a lone poinsettia to represent Christmas this year, the one bright (red) star in our sea of brown packing boxes.  I cherish this little plant so much.  More than I have any other year when it’s been just part of the backdrop.  I don’t know that I ever took the time to notice its vibrant reds and greens.  The sparkly silver wrapping.  The sharpness of its leaves.  The strength of its petals.  Its contentedness. It makes me feel joyful every time I walk by.

By being compelled to cut back on our Christmas this year, we’ve discovered that we can get along fine.  Just as I’ve realized cereal without sugar and toast without jam can still be tasty, and a quiet morning with soft background music can still be satisfying.  A slower pace of life can be even more enriching than all the educational activities we can squeeze into our days.  Likewise, Christmastime is still the most magical time of year whether we’ve put the tree up or not.  To be honest, we completely miss the decorations.  But it has made us dig a little deeper and has helped us to really enjoy the parts of the season maybe we’ve taken for granted in years past because they stand out so much more this year.

I wonder if we all have things—habits, activities, schedules, to-do lists, mindsets—in our lives that are keeping us from enjoying what’s really already there.  Are we pouring on too much sugar—time, money, energy, brain clutter—and not realizing that the cereal and toast—our families, our jobs, our homes, our days, our friends, our faith, our lives—really can be enjoyed just as they are without so much extra?  Do we sometimes insist on plugging in—to the news, activities, events, media, our social calendars—to the exclusion of restfulness, tranquility, peace, and time to just be in the moment with ourselves or our families?

You know I’m not there yet.  I told you about my toast.  Admittedly I still listen to talks nearly every day while I’m doing the breakfast dishes.  But this Christmas has been a good lesson in appreciating the simple joys in life—whether it’s the subtle taste of Grape Nuts at breakfast or a different sort of Christmas season.  So even though this isn’t the Christmas I would’ve chosen for our family, with every discomfort comes growth, a worthwhile lesson; and I’m grateful for the reminder that life without the habitual embellishments we’ve grown accustomed to is still sweet.  Just as it is.