It started a few Mondays ago. I was grabbing the trashcans when something large and red and plastic caught my eye—a cracked toddler “baseball” bat. Since no one had played with it in years, I grabbed it and shoved it in our mammoth garbage can. Just a few feet from the broken bat was a toy lawn mower. Our youngest is nine. He'd have to hunch way over to reach the tiny push handle. I grabbed its soiled little self and pitched it too. Oh, and the Care Bear knee pads my seventeen-year old wore when she was learning how to ride a bike, a Frisbee with a chunk missing and two flat, size three soccer balls. And even though I was rolling two industrial sized rubbish containers to the curb I felt lighter than I had moments ago when I was empty handed. It felt great to get rid of all that crap. It was all so big and useless and taking up space. The next Monday a woman in my yoga class approached me as we were rolling up our mats and explained she was doing a shoe drive. “Do you happen to have any outgrown shoes you could donate?” She came to the right lady. I went home and happily stuffed a shopping bag with outgrown, worn gym shoes. I topped it off with dress shoes that were sported for only one Easter or Christmas. The next time I went to yoga, I happily handed over my bag, feeling like I had handed over some of my burdens—the last minute rush of helping someone find their shoes before church, the chore of straightening the constantly haphazard shoe rack, the inconvenience of tripping over someone’s cleats. Fewer shoes equal less clutter. I was on a roll. The next Monday I had a plan of attack, I liked the pattern of decluttering that was taking place on Mondays, and I wanted to keep it going. This time of year the feeling is especially top of mind as I think of all we have, all the shopping I'm doing, all of the stuff that will flow in the door at Christmas. I grabbed one of those plastic grocery bags (the ones I feel so guilty about the bagger putting two food items in when I forget my reusable bags) and pulled open the “everything drawer.” Make that one of our “everything drawers”, the one dedicated to small, miscellaneous toys. I placed inside one plastic Dora, three bouncy balls, a singular bean bag, a light up shamrock yoyo, a tie-dyed duck and several other "treasures", tied the handle of the bag, took it out and fed it to the hungry trash can eagerly awaiting its snack. The next Monday, no lie, I got an email from a fellow soccer mom asking for donations of sweatshirts for the homeless. Her son was doing a clothing drive for his school. I was so on it. If we have too many of something in our house, it’s sweatshirts. It felt wonderful handing her that garbage bag full of warm, cozy hoodies for people who would otherwise be freezing this winter. I wish I could say that was the only buzz, but there was also the thrill of getting rid of more stuff. Lessening. Unloading. You see there’s way too much stuff in my house, in my garage, IN MY LIFE. Bob Goff, author of Love Does, gives something up every Thursday. Well, my new mantra is to get rid of something every Monday. But there’s also too much stuff in my head, on my heart, on my to-do list. And I need to declutter these areas in my life too. They are blurring my true reflection, getting in the way, blocking who I am and who I’m supposed to be. So I’ve decided to not only to get rid of a tangible something on Mondays, but also an intangible. I need to politely respond, "no," to the email asking me to stuff goodie bags, although it sounds like a blast, but I know I have a conflict. I also need to delete the email begging for coaches for the school basketball team, even though they are desperate for a volunteer, because I don't have time. Also, I cannot dribble. I need to toss the hundreds of “what if” scenarios my crazy brain plays out in a week…. "What if my daughter goes to that college seven hours away? What if my book proposal gets rejected? What if I run into that someone I was secretly trying to avoid?” All of those maybes aren’t worth fretting unless they actually happen.
Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Phil 4: 6-7 NIV Right. Which brings me back to today. I need to throw away a reoccurring fear I have in my life, knowing that God has conquered it once and for all, that there’s no need to go back to that frightened place, because God has rescued me from it. Whew. It. Is. A. Process. Just like clearing my house of all the junk we’ve accumulated after living here for fourteen years is a process. My garage and drawers and shelves are still full, but they’re getting a little cleaner, a little more manageable, bit-by-bit, week-by-week. And so is my heart. By turning over my concerns and worries and fears and time to God, and letting Him take over, bit by bit, day by day, my head and my heart and my calendar (wouldn't you like to free up some time this Christmas season?) are a little more manageable, a little less crowded too. So, Monday’s coming up, and I’ve gotta figure out what I’m going to clear out. I don’t know what it’s going to be yet, but I know it will make more space in my home and in my heart. What about you? Anything you need to clear out? You can start unloading now, by commenting below.
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Pulling out of the small parking lot after consuming the most ridiculous cappuccinos (so large, they were served in bowls) and an incredible brunch at Marche, my dear friend, Amy, and I couldn’t help but notice the head, shoulders and torso of a man emerging from a dumpster. Bedraggled and unshaven, he leaned over and rummaged around the trash searching for…something. The decadent crêpe I’d just demolished, laced with apricots and dark chocolate, felt heavy in my stomach. My heart felt even heavier in my chest. “What’s he looking for?” Amy asked, “food?” “Probably,” I sighed, “so sad.” “So sad,” she echoed, while clicking on her blinker and turning down the narrow alleyway. I’m not from Nashville, and even if I was, I have no sense of direction, so I allowed my mind to pray for the man while Amy drove. But only for about a minute and a half, because then she pulled into a minimart, shoved her car into park, and shouted to me, as she jumped out of her running car, “Be back in a minute.” She could have needed Advil or gum; maybe she needed to pick up something for her boys. As promised she was back in in less than sixty seconds with a bag, but it wasn’t full of sundries. It was jammed with food. For the man. “You’re amazing,” I said to her, as she turned back towards the dumpster. “He was hungry. I had a couple of dollars,” she said. “It won’t fix anything, but at least he won’t be hungry today.” When the dumpster came back into view, the man had vacated. But he hadn’t gone far. We spotted him pushing his abandoned grocery cart filled with smashed aluminum cans. Amy rolled down the window, and the man spoke first, “Just collecting my cans,” as if we chatted all the time and he was just giving us an update. Amy handed him the bag, told him to have a great day, and we drove off, just like that. You should have seen the beautiful smile on his weathered face. Amy was wrong. It had fixed something, maybe not his cycle of poverty, or his need for sustainable income, but it had changed his perspective of himself. For a moment on a Wednesday in October, my friend showed this man his true reflection, not in a mirror, but in a bag of peanuts and crackers. She showed him he was noticed, he was worthy, that he deserved brunch just as much as we did, and that he didn’t deserve to have to rummage through a trash heap to find it or to gather enough cans to finance it. She showed him that somebody cared. And in showing this man his true reflection, Amy’s true beauty played a beautiful melody throughout Music City, her own beautiful reflection beaming bright. In one of my favorite childhood shows, Fraggle Rock, the Fraggles sought insight from Marjory the Trash Heap. “I’m orange peels, I’m coffee grounds, I’m wisdom!” she proclaimed.
On this day, I also found unexpected wisdom from a trash heap. I’m not sure if the man was knee deep in orange peels, but I’m pretty sure after experiencing the cappuccinos at Marche that there were coffee grounds. Because my sweet friend Amy could see that this man was a beautiful creation in Christ, she was able to remind him that he was. And in so doing, in offering love, she showed the world what true beauty looks like. Do you remember Fraggle Rock? Do you remember any of the wisdom from the Trash Heap? Do you know someone whose true reflection shines? Let me know about them. I’d love to highlight them on my blog.
The day my nephew Chad was born, no one would have imagined one day he’d be crowned king. No one, except God, because that is exactly how our Creator saw Chad all along.
Chad was:
And eighteen years later at a soggy, chilly, rainy football game in a suburb of Cincinnati, thanks to the amazing true beauty of his high school community, Kings, Chad was not only elected by his peers onto the homecoming court, but called to the throne with this announcement, “And this year’s homecoming king is no other than Chad Handorf!” And the meek shall inherit the earth. Matthew 5:5
Yes, my sweet, smiling nephew who somehow sustains himself on chicken nuggets and pretzels, who always carries a coaches whistle, who has faithfully cheered the loudest at every single one of his three siblings’ games, who laughs and tells the most fantastic stories, who sings the loudest and proudest when the cousins go Christmas caroling each year, the boy who came too early, who had a list of medical problems, who survived against the odds, and who lives with the implications and limitations of Down Syndrome each and every day got to see a glimpse of how God sees him. He got to see his true reflection.
But wait, there’s more.
Chad is buddies with one of the girls on the homecoming court, Emily Lima. He was convinced he should invite her to homecoming. Even though she has a boyfriend. My sister-in-law insisted he not do it, because of the boyfriend. But Chad has always been a little stubborn. And so, he made a sign, held it up in class, and asked this girl to the dance. Emily said, “Yes, I will. I’d love to.” And so, she, her boyfriend, and Chad, well, they went to the dance together. It is only fitting, that this beautiful girl, who helped show Chad his true reflection, was crowned queen. You know what true beauty looks like? My nephew, Chad, with a crown on his head, face beaming, knowing through and through that he is a child of the one true King. |
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