Accretion: the process of growth or increase, typically by the gradual accumulation of additional layers or matter.
Mark 10.21:
Jesus, looking at him, loved him and said, “You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.”
Moving is always a stressful time. In fact, it is one of the most stressful things I ever have to do. The physical work involved is monumental. During and after this most recent move to Cedar Rapids, my legs almost stopped working. On the positive side, I think I regained a little of the muscle mass I’ve lost as a Covid Couch Mushroom, and I also believe I’ve lost a little weight. But it isn’t just the physical work! It is also a time of reckoning. It demands an answer to the question, “How much stuff do you need?” Because, honestly, I have SO MUCH STUFF!
I have been gathering “stuff” for my whole life. It falls into several categories: Family heirlooms, Useful items; Beautiful things; Interesting things; Things I may need some day; and Items that reinforce Who I Am. Various people over the years have attempted to help me simplify my life by encouraging me to “get rid of the junk” or ask “Why do you need THAT?” Some have even gone so far as to point out that Jesus had some things to say about holding onto “stuff.” Sometimes, when I’m in the right mood, I can even work with them–most notably my brother and my sister–to send different items on their way to Good Will or the trash.
The old saying, “One person’s trash is another’s treasure” is true. Think again about those categories I listed. There are only two categories that an outside observer can readily understand: Useful Items and Beautiful Things. With a little explanation they can be made to understand “Family heirlooms” but really, only if these too are either useful or beautiful. The other categories — Interesting things; Things I may need some day; and Items that reinforce Who I Am — are based on far more internal and personal criteria. The outside observer cannot fully appreciate the value of such items, because the value is intrinsic to me and my emotions. The first two categories here are areas where I can fairly easily be encouraged to divest. If I haven’t needed something that I may need some day for several years, the likelihood is low that the day after it leaves, I’ll suddenly need it. And in the very low chance of that happening, there is always the store. Interesting things engage me simply because they are interesting. Again, if it is something that I haven’t actively interacted with for a while, and if, when I pick it up, it doesn’t stir me, it can go.
The last category–“Items That Reinforce Who I Am”–is the most difficult. I possess many things that make no sense to the outside observer. They are neither beautiful nor useful nor family heirlooms. And frankly, to explain why I value them would probably be embarrassing. The difficulty is that these very items appear to the outside observer as the “low-hanging fruit” that SHOULD BE easiest to get rid of. The fact is that the only items harder to part with are the Family Heirlooms. In recent years, I have actually worked on sorting through these items and have disposed of many boxes of them. (By many, I mean at least 12 – 15 packing boxes of items.) And I’m in the process of arranging the remaining boxes so that I can easily open, sort and dispose of much more. (Yay!)
But this is HARD. In getting rid of many of these items I am closing off the possibility that I might return to the early days of my life when that item helped me be who I am. Obviously, if it has been sitting in a box for years (decades?) it hasn’t been doing that job anyway. Intellectually, I understand that. But emotions and desires do not easily bend the knee to intellect. I have to be in the right “head space” and “heart space” to let go of these things. And frankly, being hectored, even by well-meaning people who love me–isn’t helpful.
I’m coming to the end of my work life. God willing, the next move will be to California and retirement. I’m very clear that I need to “lighten the load” considerably before that move across country into a much smaller house. So I’m finding that some of the old emotional ties to my “stuff” are getting looser and some are even falling away entirely. But still, it is a difficult job to dispose of things that have meant something to me for a large part of my life.
I’ve always had a soft spot in my heart for the man whom Jesus told to “Sell all you have.” Did Jesus know the enormity of the command? Did he know that the man was being asked to strip himself naked and dance in the rain in front of all his neighbors and family? To be clear, Jesus did not demand this act of every person. He was perfectly happy that Martha, Mary and Lazarus had a nice big house that he could visit, and good food to eat. But insofar as “stuff” is an anchor–or worse yet, “concrete overshoes”–it is good to scrape away the accretions.
Shalom!
Okay, I have to weigh in on this one. Brother Charles has, for most of his life, been first-cousin to a hoarder. No, that’s not accurate, he’s the grandson to one. Yes, folks, our Grandma Layton was literally a hoarder. Our Uncle Charlie (yes, the very one for whom Charles is named) and Aunt Mary (of the magical taco & enchilada fame) who lived right next door to Grandma would absolutely ring the bell in agreement with that statement. Furthermore, after Grandma’s death, Uncle Charlie called a dozer-operator friend to come level the place, even the large metal shed containing far too many black-widow spiders nesting within Grandma’s stored “stuff” (JUNK & TRASH!) for her to allow me to even step in an look around. Piles of rocks from the mesa outside town; old appliances long since replaced by newer, working models; boxes; old milk jugs & bleach bottles; and books. Books and books and books. Shelf after shelf of Reader’s Digest Condensed Stories. Her book shelves formed the interior walls of her tiny, one room house, creating rooms where none really existed. Fascinating as a kid hanging around when we went to Arizona on our summer vacations. Interesting as a young woman wondering if there was any real treasure hidden among all the junk. Scary as I, myself, constantly work to curb my own inner-hoarder self. So, Brother-o-mine, don’t kick yourself too hard in the butt… you come by your hoarding genetically. Just don’t tell Nanna, she’d be horrified! Talk about two grandmothers who were a world apart in habits and attitudes. And we be torn between ’em. Right up to our elder years.
I’m reminded of the time that Grandma Layton visited us in Mason City. I loved hearing the story of Dad getting the stink-eye from the train porter, and when Dad tried lifting Grandma Layton’s suitcase, almost giving himself a hernia. She had filled the suitcase with rocks from the desert.
by the way, in about two weeks, Nancy is going to descend upon my new parsonage (at my request, mind you!) and do her interior design magic. Lately, I described my current situation as living in a cross between a warehouse and a hobo encampment (no reflection on the house, only on my lack of decorating skill). A few years ago, she came to Dubuque and did a makeover of that parsonage. One thing is absolutely true: Nancy likes spending my money! We had such fun buying just the right chairs, tables and artwork for THAT house. Unfortunately, now I’m trying to fit it all into THIS house. Hmm.