“Don’t worry,” the saleslady told me when I ordered laminate
flooring for our main floor, “Our workers will move the furniture as they
install. They’ll move everything to one side, do that side then move it all to
the other side of the room.”
That sounded wonderful.
I have children and grandchildren who could help, but they all have busy
lives. If the workmen would move the
furniture, I wouldn’t have to bother them.
The first thing I saw when I came home and started imagining
the ratty, stained carpet replaced by shining laminate, was the big glass cupboard
fashioned by my loving husband, full of dishes—good dishes that seldom get
used. If the workmen tried to move that
with the dishes inside, they’d probably not able to budge it, and if they did,
the dishes would go for a slide.
Obviously, I will have to take the dishes out. What if I found other places for those I don’t
really need? That would de-clutter my
life and make it easier to keep clean.
I moved to my office.
As a writer, and a bit of a sentimental pack rat, I have files and files
of interesting items I might need some time (emphasis on might and some.) My bookshelf is full of books about writing
and for writing. Some I use often,
others I have barely scratched the surface of the pool of wisdom contained in
them. I have copies of talks given and
revised for a slightly different setting.
Oh, they’re on my computer too, but I might need them sometime in the
future. There are CD’s and installation
discs for computer programs that have long ago become extinct. I began to sort
and decipher which of those items need to be kept and which need to go. But the flooring people are due to come next
week.
Reluctantly, I began to put things in boxes and marking them
as to contents, storing them in our garage with the aim to sort when I return
my office to working order after the floors are installed. In the back of my mind I wonder how long that
is going to take and fear that some of those boxes may never see the light of
day.
This morning as we read or daily devotional and God’s word,
it dawned on me how much my life and my mind resemble my office. In today’s world we are assaulted with
information from so many directions. I
love facts about just about everything.
I’m interested in people and love to be able to respond to needs to
encourage those going through difficult times, to remember birthdays and
anniversaries, and to send cards for different occasions or no occasion at
all. I like to stay in touch with
friends from long ago and friends currently in my life. I am involved in many committees and
organizations doing all kinds of good things: when I’m involved I don’t want to
be only an observer, so I often chair the committee, take minutes or participate
in an active way. Often my mind feels
like my office—books, binders, reference materials, pictures, articles in files
and drawers, stacked on shelves and overflowing—a whole pile of information
waiting to be filed, and sometimes lost in the plethora, the overabundance of material.
When it comes to my office and my mind, it seems to be not
just a question of whether, but a necessary action that must be taken. I realize I’m not getting younger. My mind is still active and I want to keep it
that way. However like many machines, if
I keep feeding it too much and too fast, it can get overloaded and perhaps my
grind to a halt. I need to discern more
closely what is necessary, what is expedient and what is superfluous, what can
be left for others to do. For some
people, the super organizers, that may come naturally. I’ve always had distaste for those who sit back
and say “Someone else can do that.” I
fear becoming one of those people, so it’s hard for me to let go. I need counsel and wisdom to help me know
what to discard from my life and what to retain—both in my office and in my
mind.
How glad I am for James 1:5—“If any of you
lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding
fault, and it will be given to you.”
Ruth Smith Meyer is included in the anthology, "Fifty Shades of Grace."
She is also author of two adult novels, "Not Easily Broken," and the sequel "Not Far from the Tree," and a children's book dealing with grief, "Tyson's Sad Bad Day."
3 comments:
Oh Ruth,
I so do understand you. I have been reading even further into what does God want me to do. Maybe none of this - or all of it. I am still in persistent prayer asking Him to help me to discern where to put my energy.
Thanks so much.
Blessings,
Janis www.janiscox.com
Ruth,
So many touché areas, here. Pack-rat with a practical bent, in hope that hoarded items -- whether books or files or other things -- might come in useful someday; also being interested in "just about everything." Thanks.
Hmm, yes, Jan's apropos point on praying for discernment in where to invest energy is well-taken, too. ~~+~~
Ah, Ruth. So many of us share this same habit. Books are the hardest to wean, aren't they? Thanks for this practical reminder that nothing is beyond taking to Father and asking for his wisdom. I needed this today.
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