Clearing Out The Clutter

In a dust covered box in the back of my closet there is a collection of photos, cards, ticket stubs, letters, etc. Truthfully, I would never define myself as a collector. Sure, like most women I've justified finding a permanent home for various things I enjoy; a few Better Homes and Gardens and Real Simple magazines I think may one day be useful if I redecorate or have a family; shadow boxes for little tidbits, mostly seashells and stones, I've collected from various vacations and trips; 40 or so pairs of shoes; etc. I wouldn't go so far as to say that I've held on to those things with the intention of defining them as "collections" though. In my mind, collectors keep coins, rocks, or buttons, cats even. I am no collector. However, after rifling through this box last night, I cannot help but admit that I have my very own collection.

I remember when I started my little collection. The date, the time, the location - all of it - ingrained in my mind for the rest of my life. In fact, I could close my eyes right now and remember every detail of the evening, from the phone call that started the ball rolling to getting in my car to head back home. You see, the bits and pieces of paper, flowers, jewelry, etc. stored in the back of my closet are simply the tangible reflections of the collection of memories I hold in my heart. I would even go so far as to say that each little momento in that box is representation of a little piece of my heart that was given away. In many ways, a lifetime has passed since I started placing items in the box and more than a fistful of years has passed since I put anything in it. And yet, there it sits. Far from forgotten and yet the dust collects. On the outside of the box, in simple writing probably penned with little effort yet great thought, is a name.

Last night, in a moment of inspiration, I fought the numerous cobwebs and crawled to the depths of my little closet to pull the box down. Something told me I would be there for awhile so I placed the box on my bed and sat down beside it. Mindless of what little time I had to spend wading through old memories, I opened the box and found myself surprised. Not by the old baseball sweatshirt emblazoned with his last name (I vaguely recalled putting that on top so I'd remember to return it), not by the Grand Valley sweatshirt that was once a Christmas gift, or even the glass blown frog prince I put in the box the day he told me he loved me. What surprised me was that I opened the box, saw the contents, and felt nothing. No pain, no anger, no bitterness, no celebration - nothing.  I have many memories associated with the contents of the box but the strong emotion that was once tied to it has dissipated.  I'll always remember the details but I'm done agonizing over them.  That knowledge further inspired me to not put the box back in the closet.

As I went through the contents of the box, determining what to toss, what to keep, and what to do with the rest, I found joy bubbling up within me. Not the "celebration" I mentioned not feeling earlier, but genuine joy. Joy stemming from knowing exactly who I am and from recognizing how secure I feel in God's love for me. I think in the dark recesses of my mind, I'd felt a compulsion to hold on to the these things as a reminder that someone once loved me. In a weird (and possibly dramatic sounding) sense, they somehow represented my value. My heart can sing because I know that I am loved more intimately than any scrap of memory could ever represent. The lyrics of Selah's 'Sweet Jesus' rolled through my head as I reveled in the joy of my Savior's love!

Sweet Jesus, my Savior
You are my faithful Friend
You Made me, You know me
You've seen my every sin
And my soul is amazed
By this gift of Your grace
And these arms that take me in

Sweet Jesus, my Savior
You are my faithful Friend

Sweet Jesus, my Shelter
You are my faithful Friend
The Refuge that I run to
When my world comes closing in
Why should I be afraid
When I know I am saved
By the arms that take me in

Sweet Jesus, my Savior
You are my faithful Friend

Sweet Jesus, my Sheperd
You are my faithful Friend
You hold me, You lead me
I'll follow 'til the end
And once more I will say
On that beautiful day
When Your arms take me in

Sweet Jesus, my Savior
You are my faithful Friend

Sweet Jesus, my Savior
You are my faithful Friend

Tonight I will join my family for our annual camping trip to Sandy Beaches. A few of my "memories" will be joining me on the trip but I'll be leaving them there. I no longer need to hold on to the past. Its time to let it go... one rose at a time. Its time to clear out the clutter.