My family and I just moved from one house to another in the same town, so I know precisely how much stuff we have. At more than one point during the 9-day stretch during which we packed, cleaned, moved, and unpacked, I asked Brent to remind me of all the reasons we had chosen to undertake such an unwelcome task. There were numerous reasons, but the primary one was that the new house is across the street from the high school, where one or more of our children will be a student for 10 years running. A minimum of two trips a day (all the way up to 5 trips some days during football season) X 180 school days X 10 years = a lot of saved trips.
But first, we had to pack all our belongings. In January, Brent filled our hallway with what initially seemed like an absurd number of boxes (“We’ll never use all these!”) and a ridiculous supply of packing tape and paper. We worked on it in 1-2 hour blocks for two months, making piles: Good Will, Give to Friends, Throw Away, and Move. Some of our kids (who will remain nameless) have what borders on psychologically unhealthy attachments to their stuff, so Brent-who is light years more patient than I am-allowed them to save things with which they simply could not part. They labeled these boxes “Archive Boxes,” which is code for “We’ll save this for you indefinitely.” We donated vanloads of stuff to Good Will. I gave away and/or sold furniture, children’s toys and clothes, books, and household items. And we threw away bags and bags and bags of stuff.
And yet . . . once the unpacking began, I realized that we still had so much stuff. I can blame some of it on our kids. They’ve spent a combined total of 36 years on the planet, so they should have something to show for it. But a lot of it is ours as well. It was both amazing and disconcerting to see what warranted keeping. Sure, some of the stuff was obvious-we’re huge readers, so everyone had lots of books, and everyone needs socks and shoes and pots and pans. But some things were surprising. I would open a box and see the contents and think: “An Anne Geddes picture book (why did I decide to keep this?), Brent’s racquetball racquet (that he uses 3 times a year), an extra Pinewood Derby car kit (that we will save until next February), a pair of someone’s old ballet slippers (that Stuart will grow into next year), etc.” I could go on, but you get the picture.
There’s something existential-ish about going through every item you own and deciding whether to keep it, donate it, or ditch it. Evaluating it according to utility, aesthetics, nostalgia, or maybe thrift. And for me, there’s something uniquely wonderful about throwing things away that don’t make the cut. 
Going through all my earthly possessions left me wondering what it would be like to go through a similar process with other aspects of my life. I’ve spent the last few years doing that with my religious beliefs. Taking each one out and examining it closely, from all angles-and especially from new angles-to see how it looks. Thinking about what it might look like to an outsider, contemplating when I might use it again, trying to remember the last time I used it or needed it. And then deciding whether to keep it or dump it. Brent, God bless him, basically forced me to similarly inventory our marriage a few years ago (luckily, I made it into his “to- keep” list, but that’s a post for another day, or maybe never). I could also do it with my career, but since I’m only four years into my second career, I’m not ready for a metaphorical professional moving day yet.
So what about you? Have you ever had a serious come to Jesus talk with yourself about any big aspects of your life-family, friends, job, religion, marriage? What motivated you to do so? Did something big have to happen, or are you one of those self-starting kind of people? Inquiring minds want to know.
*Plus, reading your comments will help me avoid unpacking those last few pesky boxes . . .
Hi Heather! Packing, moving, and unpacking…I hate it with a passion, and hope I never have to do it again. So, I feel your pain. But it is interesting going through everything you own. It makes you question every single thing, and why it is important to you. I sometimes think of it this way: What if my house burned down today? Would I care about any of this stuff? It’s amazing how much stuff I get rid of/give away when I think of it in those terms. The same can be said for emotional “clutter” as well: What if today was my last? It really prompts me to make permanent changes in my life. Thanks for the post!
I work seasonally and as a result I tend to move a lot. So I regularly pack and unpack and try to jam everything I own into a (dangerously full) single carload to carry with me to wherever I happen to be going next. I call this “tetris-car.” But despite the weird satisfaction I get from putting my superhuman packing skills into action, this is usually a long and painful project.
During this process I am forced to make an informal itinerary of all my belongings. And then I have to decide which things I can bear to part with.
Its always amazing to see how many pointless things I’ve acquired that are now just taking up space. These things are usually rejected from the “tetris-car” game, and instead find a new home at the local thrift store.
There of course are also those few random weird items that I have kept year after year after year even though they are awkward and bulky and serve no true purpose except that I just want them. They regularly get put into a thriftstore pile only to be rescued at the last second. I have no explanation for keeping these things except that they are familiar and I kind of like them.
The past several years have been emotionally messy for me. Between a painfully failed relationship, some religious strife, and a continuously precarious employment situation (the dealbreaker downside of being a seasonal biologist/archaeologist- an otherwise very enjoyable job) my emotional space was filled up with too many cumbersome, unimportant things. And I decided that it was past time to do play “tetris-car” with my life. I begun to consciously choose which things were really important to me and which things that I was holding onto were just taking up emotional space.
I realized a few major trends; I have been falling into the lazy attitude of doing what I have been raised to do and am told to do instead of what I actually think is right (a problem within LDS culture that is already well represented throughout this blog) and also that I have been holding onto a lot of emotional junk.
As a result of this self-inventory, I have begun making a conscious effort to only employ actions and attitudes that I will want to repack and keep a year from now. I know I’ll have some major work to do before I’m satisfied, and I’m sure some of those comfort items will still get pulled out at the last second, but I feel like I have regained a lot of control over my life and myself.
Thanks for your blog, and for the chance to share.