Wednesday, March 25, 2015

On Having Less

I am my mother’s daughter, after all. This became all the more apparent this past weekend as I combed over my apartment, getting rid of multiple items I no longer- or have never- worn or used. My mom thrives off of decluttering and those who know me best know that organization is not my strong suit.

I’ll say it again: I’m not an organized person. Oh, I do alright in life. I’m not of the variety that can’t pay bills on time or has been written up at work for failure to meet deadlines. It's just that pictures of rigorously organized closets with color coded clothes and little cubbies for each sock stresses me out.

Despite the fact that I'm successful, even though I have a tendency to forego strict organizational rules of thumb , I often feel “less than” for my lack of organization. Many in our culture thrive on it. We proudly proclaim how OCD we are (soapbox moment: you can have OCD, but you cannot be OCD, unless you are calling yourself a mental disorder) because we like to keep a clean desk. And then there are those of us who are lucky to just know what’s in the piles on our desks.

This past weekend I entered one of my decluttering moods. Shoes Chai chewed up, but for some reason still sat in the back of my closet? Gone. Cute dress I bought two years ago that I never wore anywhere? Donated.  Random assortment of 1990s Christian cds I forgot I had? Thrift Store.

Prior to this cathartic cleaning spree, I had perused the website of The Container Store where you can find shelving, drawers, dividers, boxes and bins to suit all your organizational needs. I made a list of the items I could buy that would help me.

And then it hit me: I was planning to buy more things to hold the things I already have and I already have more than enough things. (See that last sentence? Dr. Seuss isn't the only one with skills.)

I don’t consider myself a minimalist, but I appreciate living simply. If I didn’t have so many things, I wouldn’t need to organize them. There are entire companies making money off people having too much stuff. So I decided to downsize.

I realize many people enjoy organization and cherish hours spent in stores with rows upon rows of baskets to hold craft ribbon, and that’s great…. that’s just not me. I’d rather have less than have lots neatly stored away. And I absolutely recognize that you can live simply AND buy organizational supplies… I’m just sharing what works for me.

Maybe it’s my 19th century loving self, but when it comes to my wardrobe sometimes I feel like I just need two pairs of pants, two shirts, a skirt, and a sturdy washboard. Now when I peer into my closet post-cleaning spree weekend, I realize I don’t have a ton of clothes…. and I’m ok with that. (Don't worry, I still have more clothing articles than the aforementioned list.)

After my experiences in Waco, Chicago, and Belize, I’ve changed how I perceive owning things. I don’t think we need near as much as we think we do and when I compare my apartment to what those in third world countries have, I realize I don’t need a giant house.

I realized that for me, owning less is more valuable than buying organizational tools. And let’s face it: buying boxes and bins is not going to solve my tendency to let clutter accumulate; they would just be more items to declutter.

I am not dismissing the importance of organization or the need to continue to improve in this area. Rather, I am realizing that I'd rather have less to organize. 

When I see something at a store- even the thrift store- I really try to consider whether or not I like it enough to give it space in my home. For me, it doesn't make sense to spend lots of money buying more things to hold the stuff I already have. There’s something freeing about owning less.

Now if only I could apply this love of less is more to my Starbucks trips.

Sunday, March 1, 2015

Being Still Even When My Hands are Shaking

“Be still and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.” ~Psalm 46:10 (NIV)

2015 has been a somewhat crazy year. It’s just the first day of the third month, but already I’ve had my heart broken, have dealt with a family medical issue, and am experiencing severe burnout at work (compassion fatigue, anyone?). Oh yea, I also am experiencing a side effect of a medication that sometimes makes my hands shake. It’s a very awkward conversation piece.

I have been deeply in need of rest.

Psalm 46:10 seems to be a recurring theme for me this year. In talking with friends and reading books, the idea of being still has been preached to me numerous times. Obviously, it’s time to listen and going on a spirituality retreat with my church in Greenville seemed like a great opportunity to be still. I’d been on this retreat before, but had forgotten about the banner that is displayed at the front of the sanctuary. It reads: “Be still and know that I am God.” Psalm 46:10

Got the message.

Throughout the weekend there was ample time for silence and solitude. We read passages from a devotional classic, “The Shepherd Psalm” by F.B. Meyer and then would take significant time to be alone, pray, and reflect on what we read.

I joked with my small group that I live by myself so I already have lots of solitude….. but there’s no spiritual rest in watching the Bachelor on Monday nights. The point was, you can have time alone and still not be restored; restorative solitude must be intentional.

This weekend it was very intentional. Saturday morning I put on my Chicago boots and coat and walked to the prayer chapel. Situated at a camp and conference center in a part of the state where mountains are beginning to dot the landscape, the chapel has glass windows that overlook the forest. Dusted with snow, the scene was beautiful. I took a seat on a rustic wooden bench in the back and when the other person present left, I took a seat at the front. I looked out over the outdoor scene and prayed…. and cried. I said out loud, “God, I’m struggling.” I realize it was supposed to be a time of silence, but I think that cry from my heart was entirely appropriate.  

I didn’t receive a distinct answer to my prayer, but I did experience the communion that comes from pouring out my heart to God, something that comes strongly recommended in one of my favorite verses, Psalm 62:8. Though brief, that time in the wooden chapel brought with it rest and restoration for my soul.

Other quiet times involved curling up on a couch or in a chair and reading over the book excerpt and then praying, letting the tears fall if they came.

I reconnected with friends I had grown to love during my time in Greenville and enjoyed the fellowship that comes from talking in groups while grazing a giant pile of snacks, or resting on a couch and remembering retreats past. The community was simple, and so much more restorative than my normal get togethers with others, which generally consists of dinner out or a movie. No one was rushed….well, maybe the retreat leaders.

The time of solitude, sweet community, and times of worship were greatly needed and I’m back in Apex, feeling a little more restored than I was last week.

This was a weekend of healing in various ways. It was not without its humorous times, such as when I went to light a candle symbolic of my prayer for my broken heart and after trying the wicks on about three different candles, could not get them lighted. Slightly exasperated I practically thought, “I just want to light a candle for my broken heart! Can’t I just do this!?” (That was the first night of the retreat…. not as much rest was had at that point!) I finally did get a candle lit.

This retreat brought the conviction that I need to focus on being more intentional about solitude and seeking God on a regular basis, instead of running myself ragged until the next retreat at the end of February. Maybe this year I’ll follow through on it. I know lately I have had some struggles that have brought me closer to the heart of God and I want to continue that spiritual growth.

I’d love to hear what others do to connect with God and  experience rest and rejuvenation. I know it’s not a method, but a process of just being. Just being still and knowing that He is God.

So, that’s something I want to focus on. I’d say work on, but well, it’s not about doing, but about being. Being still can be hard for my extroverted self and even if my hands shake, at least my soul can be still.