All of us have had or will have these kinds of experiences

The past few months have been focused on packing up and getting rid of possessions that I don’t think I need anymore.  It sounds a little gruesome, but I got a book entitled, “The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning.” I was attracted to it because it seemed to promise strategies to help rid me of a lifetime of clutter. So much that no one in my tiny family is interested in inheriting. I’m feeling very  liberated as I turn loose of more and more.

A very large part of this packing up as been centered on my two libraries. I have one at work and another at home. I though getting rid of almost 150 banker’s boxes of books would be easy. What was I thinking? Where did all these books come from? I think to myself as I stand there reading through a forgotten find. No wonder this is taking so long.

From my office at school, which needs to be vacated in May, I have hauled almost 100 of those boxes back home. Each day as I arrive, hoping for a close parking space, I work a little bit on my disappearing act. In the Fall I had a parking lot “book giveaway” for students. That was great for me – passing on from my ministry related shelves to young students. Now, everyone who comes into the office leaves with a book or two or three or…

Passing on a handful here or there to other students is soul satisfying. At home, I’m always searching for someone who likes to read what I’ve collected over the years. I’ve had some luck. Years ago I packed away a box full of Tarzan paperbacks to pass on to my grandson – my own grandfather had started me on them. Many don’t read books any more, preferring to stare at a screen. Maybe I’m getting out at just the right time?

“Anyone who has lost something they thought was theirs forever finally comes to realise that nothing really belongs to them.” ― Paulo Coelho

Passing it all on to just the right people

Most of my libraries (and other possessions) have been passed on each week to the veterans organization that comes to my door and faithfully and picks up the boxes I have stacked up. It’s been a great service for me, perfect timing, and little by little, my long life of reading and collecting has disappeared.

It was a thrill to pass on our baby bed – which held my daughter and both grandchildren. An expecting family came over and packed it away in their truck. Another young family came and took the rocking chair we had used. That gives me a better satisfaction than a mysterious donation would have.

“The more material we lose, the less we have. The less we have, the more we win.” ― Anthony Liccione

Contemplating a move to somewhere much smaller, I need to get rid of a lot of furniture. Most is old and worthless but full of memories. For the past handful of years I’m only using a room or two in the house now. In all my years, I’ve never had a garage with less junk in it. I’m awaiting some award to come in the mail. As I go through boxes that have been sealed up for decades, I’m finding all sorts of treasures. Some, I’m passing on to others. So much I had forgotten about. Memories that bring up happiness and longing for those days when we were all so skinny.

Each day I review all that I’ve done on my journey toward “death cleaning” this house I’ve been in for almost 30 years. I’m happy that there’s something to check off the list. Always another step forward. So very satisfying. Something else that needs to be left behind has disappeared. That garage de-junked and my slow slide toward clutter free sainthood a tiny bit further along.

This feeling of accomplishment has another side to it

“Despite your best efforts, people are going to be hurt when it’s time for them to be hurt.” ― Haruki Murakami

To be honest, there are two sides of this experience. All that deep satisfaction and accomplishment because real goals are being met. Items checked off the list. Procrastination bred by too much contemplation and uncertainty defeated. But, on the other side of that brightly lit cloud, there’s something else. It seems like I’m also losing my grip on what represents my own life. A house with empty shelves and only photos. On a beautiful day with bright sun and cool breeze, I walk across a campus I put my life into for decades and in a few weeks, this will vanish and I will become that stranger in a strange land.

“Mostly it is loss which teaches us about the worth of things.” ― Arthur Schopenhauer

As I walk through this house I lived in, raised my daughter in and watched my wife take her last breath in – I can’t help but feel a profound loss. There’s no question that I’m ready to get on the ship and sail away to my next chapter in life. But when something goes out the door there’s subtle sense that I’m losing something important that I’ll never find again. A nostalgia that just flavors all of our lives as we age and transition. These hard days will pass. They always do, but they leave a trail.

I’m losing so much of who I used to be

Much of this is junky and cheap furniture that I’m trying to get rid of. It reminds me of years gone by, when we were broke, creative and working so hard to build our new lives. Each piece sort of represents something in my mind. My soon to be wife ran off and bought a very cheaply made China cabinet at a garage sale before our wedding. We redecorated it but never replaced it with something more worthy. I just got rid of it. But felt a little like I’d betrayed something sacred about our past. I’m sitting here looking at the empty spot where it was.

Discovering all the old files, boxes and dusty packages I’d forgotten about. Passing on to family and friends something magic. I found two old photos from high school and immediately mailed to a dear friend from way back when, sharing that happy moment caught on film. I do feel like I’m on a treasure hunt as I sort through all this forgotten matter in the back of drawers and closets. Sacred memories of ancient days and dearest ones who’ve traveled to heaven. There’s that nostalgia again.

I’ve got a saying hanging on my wall at home. I read it each day as I pass by:

IT IS WHAT IT IS

So much has changed in my life over the past eight years. I would never have predicted this ride. When I thought one gut-wrenching turn was surely the end, another soon came. What’s true is that I’ve had people on the ride with me all along, never alone. God held my hand in the dark. What else is true is that I have memories that have made my life filled with wonder. This is a treasure I can’t lose.

“Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak knits up the o-er wrought heart and bids it break.” ― William Shakespeare

There’s room now for the next me to come together.