October is the craziest month of our year, as we come off birthday season in our house (3 of the four of us have birthdays within 13 days of each other) and head into a quieter time before Thanksgiving. This year especially, I was looking forward to it.



But the last three weeks have proven to be anything but quiet. We made a rapid-fire (but not rash) decision to try and sell our house and move into something else. I won't go into the trigger incident for the move. I will say the goal is to be in a house that has better space for our guests and that is closer to church.



That means that it fell (mostly) on me to declutter and clean the house and make it ready for house-shoppers to come through and peruse what our little home has to offer them. I have boxed and cleaned, cleaned and boxed, and moved furniture out and in to make the house look...different. About half of our belongings are now either in the trash, at a thrift store, on Craiglist (printer/scanner anyone?) or in a storage space that we rented, and the house is starting to come together as a sell-able product.



That makes it sound like it's been easy, right? And yet, it has been an extremely humbling experience. I have, for a long time, clung to the idea that since I have a small house, I must be a minimalist, free from the constraints of materialism and the longing of having All The Things.



But I've come to realize that I was not practicing what I thought I was practicing. In many ways, we continued to accumulate things when we should not have. When The Stuff got to be more than we could handle, sure, I'd haul some of it to Goodwill, but there have also been a lot of trips to Ikea to buy Stylish Swedish Vertical Storage to fit The Stuff into the small space.



I wish I could say that in the process of the packing that I decluttered more than I did, but in truth some of those things won't be clutter if we have the space to house them in the new place--though I intend to do another round of decluttering once we move, if the Lord is willing that we do so.



In the meantime, and especially with the Season of Marketing and Advertising upon us, I have been giving a lot of thought to The Stuff. And how to truly be free of any unproductive attachment to it. Here's what I plan to do to stay on the right path as we move forward--whether the Lord blesses us with more space or not.



1. Take care of what I do have. This has been a truly convicting point for me, and perhaps the most humbling part of the whole experience. I have found several things that I have really enjoyed, and perhaps have even used a lot, that are no longer as desirable to me simply because I didn't care for them as well as I should have. I have been instructed to be a good steward of what I have (1 Pet. 4:10). Realizing the many ways I have failed in that has been disturbing to me, and I am newly resolved to discontinue that trend! The good news: since I am determined to have less stuff, that will be less stuff to clean and maintain. More care to lavish on what I really do enjoy.

2. Use what I have. My wedding shoes--the ones I lovingly had color-matched to my dress and that were a real splurge for my parents, are in the trash as of this week. They did not hold up well, tucked away in their box in the top of the hall closet. I found them discolored and unsightly, and realized that even if they still looked nice, the style is far too youthful for me now. Wouldn't it have been nice to wear them a time or two in the years just following the wedding? They got ruined anyway, at least I could've used them. I have been far too guilty of not using my 'nice things.' Well, what's the point of having them if you're not going to use them? How will I tell the children stories of the china my grandmother gave me if they never see it? At some point, I'm not going to have it anyway--it will either get lost or broken or stolen or I'll die. So... why not use it and enjoy it? I remember reading Alice Walker's short story Everyday Use years ago, and being touched by it--but not always putting it into practice, that using important things is important and good.



3. Use my things to serve. This is the most productive way to do #2. If you look at 1 Pet. 4, there is a clear link between stewardship and serving. We aren't given things (physical or spiritual) to just sit around and stare at them--or even worse--to put them in the closet! It can look different depending on your interests, who you know, and what people need. Maybe it's using your dishes to have people over. Maybe it's using a casserole pan to make a meal for someone. Maybe it's letting someone borrow your outdoor gear because they want to try out camping without committing to buying a slew of stuff just yet. My things, while now clutter to me, can be a blessing to someone else. When I have clothes that are no longer my style or are too youthful for me, there may be someone else out there who will love it. My random small appliances may have been on someone else's "want" list for a while. Getting a freebie from someone else is such a nice surprise, and giving one to someone means both of us win. Just don't be offended if they don't take it--all you can do is offer!

4. One thing in, one thing out. When you do find that you need to bring something into your home, this is a great rule to follow. I'll warn you though-- this one is hard! We "need" the new thing, but have a tough time letting go of the old. But it is a good practice in just how much we need it, if we already have something we don't want to let go of. Going forward, I intend to decide just what I will let go of BEFORE I buy the new thing.

5. If it hasn't been used in a year, let it go. Oof, this one is hard for me. I always want to fudge and make it two--or even three--years, but the one year rule is solid. If it's important to you, you'll use it. If it's not, it's clutter.



Alright, I'm off now to clean the newly-discovered surfaces in the house in preparation for family and Thanksgiving. I have so much to be thankful for--including my newly humbled spirit. Here's to being a better steward of all the many, many blessings I have been given.

This blog has been long-neglected. Not for any lack of thought on my part, but because much of my thinking has been going on in the background while things that required doing demanded my time more urgently. I am pleased to have the desire and the time to be back at a keyboard and writing this morning.



This week much of my 'doing' has involved praying for and trying to encourage a number of people I know who have been touched, again, by death. This time, it is the death of a 25-year-old man who went out to enjoy a fall day and drowned in Kentucky's Barren River. I did not know Adam Smelser, but many people I care about cared deeply for him, and still do. By all accounts, he had both an insatiable appetite for life--first, for eternal life, but also for the life God blessed him with on Earth. Funny, talented, vibrant. His loss is being felt deeply here.



I have been praying for his friends. I have also prayed fervently for his family, who lost a beloved son, the second of 6 siblings. I have heard Adam's father, Scott, a preacher, teach about parenting, and I know he takes his role seriously. He has been quite transparent about his grief and his faith via social media, and his handling of this unspeakably hard situation is so very admirable.



His words yesterday, though, have pierced me to the heart:



"A newly married friend just asked -as many have- if there's anything he can do. I've been asking for a time machine, but nobody has had one yet. Today I came up with a better request:



Here's what you can do, you and that sweet wife of yours. Have a baby boy (girls are fantastic, have some of them too, but right now we are one short on the boys). And for all of them, expect great things of them. And don't let the world get their hearts. And love them like crazy, and train them like they're going to be workers for the King of the Universe."



The request of that grieving father is so challenging to me--to us. His son had a profound effect on others both his age and beyond. That doesn't happen by luck or circumstance. I want to respond to the wisdom of a man who raised a soul like Adam.



Here is what strikes me about it: It is so very single-minded. And dedicated. And sincere. There is one reason, and one reason only that we are here: To Know God, and thus to Make Him Known.



When Mr. Smelser says, 'Expect great things of them," I'm pretty sure he doesn't mean, expect them to walk or talk early, or to take home all the MVP trophies, or to land the highest-paying job out there. He means to expect excellence in God's sight. He means it in the same sense as Colossians 3:23--our work is to be done heartily, yes. But it is to be done for the Lord, not for men.



Yet it is so easy as parents to forget that *our* work is for the Lord, too. We want to raise children who follow Christ, but who also (insert other thing that the world thinks is important right now too). That's not single-mindedness. Of course there will be Christians with some traits that are lauded by those who do not serve Christ. But that is not the goal. And Satan loves to muddy up our thinking by telling us we really can have both. Jesus himself says it's not possible (Matthew 6:24). But since God doesn't write spiritual milestones in our child's baby books, or give out trophies when our kids show kindness, or hand out raises when they tell someone about Jesus, it's tempting to look elsewhere for the validation we want in growth, even when it is of an earthly nature. But that is just one way that we as parents let the world get *our* hearts, and when he has our hearts, he'll get our children's, too. That thought is chilling to me. May it never be.



I feel like I've got the love thing down. The constant challenge, though, is to remember that our primary love must be for our children's souls--not for their volatile emotions. I have to do what makes them better, not what makes them happy (though a child whose parent truly cares for their soul is going to know much happiness).



Then there is the final urging to train them, to train them to serve the King of the Universe. Wow. I mean, no pressure, right? Our boss hung the stars and knows how many hairs are on my head, yet here I am trying to teach little kids (who will soon be big kids, and who all too soon be adults) how to work for Him. But clearly, it can be done, and He will help us.



So, I think about the best training I've gotten over the years. First, I needed to know what the job was and who my boss is. This is a big job, with a big boss, and I need to spend time teaching the children who they serve (bonus: I learn more about Him too). A worker also needs to know what is expected of them in their job. That is still more for us as parents to input into our children. And finally, the most effective way to train someone is to have them observe us on the job--and this one requires us to be in the field and on the clock all the time. I can't farm this training out, y'all. It starts with me. It starts with me.



I suppose you could look at a challenge like this and feel overwhelmed by it. But when I see how very well the Smelser family did this, and how well other families I know have done it, I'm strangely not intimidated at all. Because I can see how they did it and where they got their strength to do it (Phil. 4:13). It makes me want to have oodles of babies. It makes me want to remind all the young couples who are waiting for the perfect time to have children: there is no perfect time, but there are always abundant blessings in children (Psalm 127:3). But most importantly, it gives me new resolve to do the things Mr. Smelser has said to do with my two children who are sleeping in their beds right now, who will wake up eager to learn new things, new skills, and to be shown the way they should go.

Lord, may I be single-minded, sincere, and constant in my love and service for you. May I teach your way diligently to my children, and may we all never stray from it.