Clearing the forest floor

Before making the big change and moving over to the old growth forest (the retirement community), we had to clear the forest floor in our old condo. The place had accumulated a lot of debris and clutter over the years. Some of it was precious clutter.

To put it in a positive light, we decided we were on a quest for simplicity, a good Quaker value. We discovered that simplicity is not as simple as it seems.

After 70 years living in two countries, 13 towns or cities, and multiple houses, we had a lot of stuff. Actually, because our missionary life-style required that we live light, we had less possessions than many of our peers. But it still seemed like a lot.

De-cluttering-guru Marie Condo helped, although we found her book funny. (Verbally thank your old socks for giving such good service to your feet? Come on!) Marie advised us to make a pile of stuff in a given category (nick-nacks, for example), then go through the pile item by item, deciding what to give away (surely our son will want this ceramic cow that came

from my mother), what to donate to Goodwill, what goes to the dump, and, finally, what we get to keep. This last small pile we would take along as we entered our retirement forest.

Marie told us to only keep items that give us joy. My problem is that too many things give me joy. I am easily pleased.

I admit that we didn’t follow all Marie Condo’s suggestions to the letter, but we did manage to get the job done. Partially. Actually, a lot of hard decisions went into boxes to be stored in our son’s large garage; we figured we could go through that stuff little by little in the next few years (a task still pending).

Some thoughts on simplicity that emerged from our downsizing adventure:

1.)   Simplicity feels good. As the accumulation of possessions lessens, I feel relief.  Whether it’s clearing out closets or refrigerators, raking leaves, cleaning my desk top, simplifying my schedule, re-ordering my priorities, or making a major move, the resulting sense of lightness and rightness makes it worth the effort.

2.)   Simplicity is complicated. That’s a great oxymoron. None of this is easy or automatic.  Simplicity is not simple. To let the stuff in my files, on my desk, or in the attic accumulate takes no effort whatsoever. Bringing order out of chaos does. It requires time, energy, organization, wisdom, and generosity, a willingness to give away what might be useful to someone else.

3.)   Where our treasure is, there will our heart be. Jesus said that. And our treasure should be invested in things that remain. And so I pray, “Lord, help me give my heart to things that are permanent. And show me what they are.”  To my mind come images of worship, gratitude, relationships, a glass of grape juice given to my grandson, a word of encouragement to my neighbor. Things that leave no paper trail, sacrifice no trees—but that build for eternity. I also think of Jesus’ promise to his disciples that if they would learn to abide in him, their labors would produce “fruit that remains.”

Now that I’m living in the retirement community, do I ever miss something I gave away? Of course. I also encounter things on my shelves, in the bookcases, and hanging in the closet that I still could do well to get rid of. I guess the decluttering will go on until I die.

I might as well laugh.