Cleaning up

"It's a process." 


I find myself saying that a lot. Grieving, moving, packing, unpacking. Sorting out the worthwhile from the junk and the precious from the why-did-I-ever-hold-on-to-this? My grandparents are in the process (there's that word again) of selling their house, in which they've lived for about 30 years. They will be taking permanent residence at their home in Florida, which means every time I've over at Granddad and Grams's house, it's an Everything-Must-Go sale! The boxes and shopping bags and plastic bureaus that I've taken thus far could fill my little car a couple times over. I feel so blessed, and yet I wonder at what point does stuff become STUFF?


I don't want my possessions to own me, to wrap me in chains of clutter and dust. For the first time, I want to know exactly everything that I have and exactly where to find it-- and the goal is within reach, now that I have my own place entirely to myself. What exists within my boundary is mine, and what exists outside is someone else's. It's such a liberating feeling! It instills a certain purpose: if this is no longer serving me, I say Thank You and Good-bye. My grandparents gave me their whole CD collection. Ninety percent of it is now in the Goodwill pile, but I was struck by a couple things: some joyous bluegrass music that I just had to keep, and a couple tracks from the crooners. Nat King Cole's "Mona Lisa" has a special place in my heart; my mom's name is Lisa, and her godparents always called her Mona Lisa. I seem to recall her saying they'd hum the song around her when she was a little girl. That song, worth keeping. Worth the time to sift through.


Then a griefburst strikes. Tears spill down my cheeks. It wasn't too long ago that the tears were coming every day. Now it's once every couple weeks. It's a process. But I'm doing well overall. I think Mom would be overjoyed at the Marriage Equality ruling. I think Mom's proud of my adventures in a new church, including marching in the Gay Pride Parade with 125 fellow UVC members. Such an amazing, loving, life-giving environment.


I want to tell her all these little things, like how our cousin Tullie went sky-diving today, and threw up after. And Mom and I would laugh and high-five and congratulate ourselves on how we were probably the inspiration for Tullie's jump... oh, and when we jumped out of a perfectly good airplane we went barf-free! Hard to believe that's almost two years ago now.


There's a good amount of sorting still to do. I know God's with me, and my mom's here too. Keep only what's worth holding on to. Let go of what no longer serves you. Have patience, though. It's a process.


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