Cleaning House

I have been making excuses all week about why I would not sit down and write. My family was in town, my sister got engaged, we went wedding dress shopping and to the beach, et cetera. I think my favorite excuse is that I didn’t have my computer. How can I write if I don’t have my very own personal computer?

I’m currently sitting on my childhood bedroom floor in my parent’s house. I booted up my own computer for the first time in about a month and a half and immediately went to check my gmail account. What had my Haiti teammates written about today? I needed to see their words and feel more connected than a brief text message allows. Both Emily and Tiffany had written about…writing.

And then I was convicted.

When I left Haiti, I spent the night in Atlanta and attended a Braves game with some of my Haiti teammates. I was supposed to fly to Philadelphia the same day I left Haiti, but I was not ready to walk away from it all. I changed my flight to the following day. And I changed it to fly to Norfolk instead of Philly since that is where my family planned on gathering for the nation’s birthday. My whole time in Norfolk, the only clothing I had was what I took to Haiti (okay, my mom brought down a couple pairs of jeans and my beach bag, but that’s it). My bag contained some beat up t-shirts, a couple skirts and pairs of shorts, and my Reefs. For a month and a half, that is all I have had to wear.

Today, on the way to my parent’s house, we stopped by my storage unit.

There was so much stuff…I wanted everything to disappear. I want everything to disappear.

I don’t need any of it. My shelves, my five different bath towels, the ottoman containing my bed sheets, my couch, I want it all gone. It got worse when I got to my parent’s house, which is where all my clothes are. I am completely repulsed that I own so much stuff.

I’m spending the next couple of days cleaning house. I don’t need most of my junk – in fact, I just need to find my camera cord. That’s about it. I’m going to make a big old pile of Stuff I Don’t Need, and then I’m going to give it away. I don’t have a house to put all my stuff in, anyway. I feel incredibly burdened and feel like I am going to have a difficult time doing what God really wants me to do if I do not get rid of my stuff.

I think there is a parallel in there in which stuff=all the emotional baggage I confronted in Haiti. But that is a story for a different time.

So I’m getting rid of my stuff. And I’m keeping a record of my thoughts.