Project "Sell All You Have"

The past weeks have been a super-charged time of spring cleaning. In fact, I'm simplifying my life to consist of only two suitcases and two storage tubs.  It's fun getting rid of excess purses, shoes, clothes, and decorative items. Stuff clutters my life and bogs me down. What's been more difficult is saying goodbye to well-loved books. How I hate to part with The Little House on the Prairie series, The Old Curiosity Shop, Jane Eyre, and various other classic works that have contributed to some of the most delightful moments of my life. Or the works that have transformed my thinking and heart, books of theology and inspiration. John Piper. John Owen. C. S. Lewis. Selling the vast majority of my books seems to be moving me away from my lifelong dream of one day having a personal library. But what use, really, would a library have? It is a rather selfish dream, after all. I suppose I'll wait for heaven to have that library full of 'real' books. Here on earth I'll just settle for the new world of e-books.

Along with saying goodbye to my favorite books, it was surprisingly and heartbreakingly difficult to sort through my box of "sentimentality". Not being an overly sentimental person, this box has always  been the exception to my "get rid of what you don't need" rule.

It is full of memories. Old friends. Experiences that change the course of my existence. Travels and major events. People who have now been with Jesus for some time. Moments of intense emotion that I'd completely forgotten. I feel as though in two hours I reviewed the progression of my life for the past 15 years. From the quiet and stubborn child...the withdrawn, hurting, and determined teenager...the immature but eager college student...to what I am today (whatever that is). God is faithful to change us and cause us to grow up, isn't he? I see ever so slight a progression in my victory over sin. I was reminded of God's grace in my life throughout the years. We learn from the past. And maybe you, like me, are forgetful. Even though I may not remember every incident of life, every conversation or event, it impacts me. I become the product of the moments of life. While I'd like to live always in the present and future, dreaming big dreams and hoping for wishes fulfilled, it is healthy for me to dwell momentarily in the past.Time changes us. This moment will never again be here. Who I am now will not be who I am tomorrow. We are transformed by everything. The people around us, the experiences we have, what we say and do.  So live in every moment. Spend time in the things that are most important. I have posted a quote by one of my favorite preachers (Tim Shorey): "we effectively become what we affectionately behold." So gaze upon Jesus, spend your moments with Him, and you will become what He is. Most of my stuff I won't miss, but I will miss some of the reminders. The reminder of all that God has orchestrated in my life, through painful and joyful times. 

The Big Day
Yesterday I had my yard sale. Project "Sell All You Have," as I affectionately dubbed it. It was a smashing success. In spite of a few sentimental moments over the past week, I am thrilled to be free of the useless, life-cluttering junk. My mind feels cleared and I can now move on to the things that are so much more important than stuff.

Shy and Anne were my two amazing yard sale helpers. Anne told me that God woke her up that morning and told her to get over to help me. And I'm so thankful she obeyed because I really needed her help. She charmed everyone and convinced people to buy items we never thought would sell. 

I was sad to say bye to some of my items from S. Korea, Kenya, Tanzania...

Maddie came to hang out. She absolutely adores her Uncle Shy. 

Post-yard sale - isn't it a beautiful sight? 

Thank goodness I don't take this emotional walk down memory lane very often. It's exhausting. I think I'll travel back to the present and future now. My present life, now freed from junk and prepared for a new stage of existence. A whole new host of memories, friends and experiences.