If it's just stuff, why do I have so much of it?

A couple of days ago, I went into my apartment with one goal. To clean. Not just make my bed and put away my dishes, but to spring clean. I was ready to take everything out of the cabinets, scrub the baseboards, and go through every item I own.

When I was younger, I guess you could say I was somewhat of a packrat. The child version of a hoarder. The thought of getting rid of any stuffed animal or any tweety-bird t-shirt sent chills through my body and simply was not an option. I remember one time my mom went to the church garage sale to "rescue" one of my stuffed animals that had accidently been placed in the give-away pile after I resorted to sobbing when I noticed it's absence.

Thankfully, as we grow up, many characteristics of our personality and actions develop and change. Through the years, I have become more confident, independent, and relaxed. In addition, my perspective on clutter and cleanliness has taken a 180.

What once gave me chills now creates a kind of a high for me. I love getting rid of things. Post college graduation a couple of years ago, I began to realize the amount of "things" I had accumulated over my four years in school. I filled my free hours in the afternoon with hours of shopping trips with paychecks I received from my numerous odd jobs. I never spent money I didn't have, but I did spend the money I did have on countless items I bought solely on the premise that they were on sale or a good deal. Translation. I purchased large quantities of poorly made items that i didn't need.

I began to notice the immensity of the possessions I collected moving off campus post college graduation. After countless loads taken to my new home, unpacking I began to realize the number of things I had packed up that I hadn't touched in at least two years. I began to purge myself of those extra things and felt surprisingly good afterwords. 

After a few more moves over the following couple of years, I continued to purge myself of excess belongings each time I packed. It then became a bi-monthly activity to clean out my closet. After several "closet purges" over the past few months, I was sure there was nothing I had left to give away.

On Tuesday, I finished the task of cleaning and scrubbing my cabinets and moved on to my closet. I sat down on the floor and looked up at all that was there. There was so much. How did I still have so much stuff?

I set out to clean my closet, and I ended up sitting on the floor sobbing. 

Stories of the devestation in Moore, Shawnee and the surrounding areas have been constant the past few days. Images of piles of rubble that used to be homes, used to be living rooms, and used to be classrooms are on the front page of every newspaper in the country and every headlining story on every television station.

Stories of heroes, reunited families, and the search for loved ones pop up by the minute. Through reading all of these stories, I have noticed a few things. First, the heart of Oklahomans and the sense of love, community, and God's presence in the midst of unbelievable adversity is incredible. No one is a stranger to a helping hand or word of encouragement. We are called to love our neighbors, and I am thankful to live in a state where most aren't shy of that.

The second thing I noticed was this. Each interview, though different in experience had a similarity. Over and over again, I have heard the citizens of Moore say how thankful they are that their loved ones are alive and that is all that matters. Not once have I heard someone get on the news and say they miss their flat screen television or their Nike shoes they had resting in their closet.

Sitting in my closet on the floor, I began to think. What if all of this was gone. Would I be that upset about it? Sure, I would miss things that held sentimental values and pictures that held memories, but how much value was lying the majority of the things surrounding me?

We plaster our walls with sayings like "The most important things in life aren't things." I believe that to be true with my whole heart. If that is so, why do I still have so much stuff?!

We seek to get better jobs for a bigger paycheck so we can buy a bigger house to fill with more things. Why do we do it?

Why do I keep buying more stuff? We want to have the same things as others, keep up with the Jones's, and live in comfort. But why?

My mind keeps tracing back to the story of the rich young ruler where Jesus tells him to leave all of his possessions and come and follow him. He could not bring himself to do it and reluctantly walks away from the Savior unwilling to let go of his earthly possessions.

In my life, my home, my city, my state, and my country, we are blessed with an abundance of things. Look around you. It is undeniable.

Sometimes I wish everything was black and white. I am a logical person and sometimes it is hard to find the middle line between being and extremist and doing nothing at all. Where is the line when it comes to our possessions? At one point does "having" become wrong?

I think it all comes down to our motivations and where we place true value and seek for true joy. I say we are blessed with an abundance of things, but too often we see the thing as the blessing instead of the Giver. It is far too easy to seek fulfillment in an abundance of earthly possessions. It only takes one natural disaster like the one we saw in Oklahoma this week be reminded how quickly those things can be taken away and the things that really matter.

This isn't the first time a natural disaster has happened, and it won't be the last. We are quick to give freely of our possessions and respond in times like these. But what happens after? What happens when the headlines change and our lives go back to "normal". That's the part where it gets sticky. That's the part where we have to be intentional and aware of our actions and the ways we are expending the resources we have been blessed with. That's the part where we need to remember that there are people in need all around us, that we need to be around for the long haul, and that we aren't called to be the hands and feet of Jesus only in crisis situations.

The tears that fell on my closet floor are representative of feeling I have about my possessions sometimes, but not often enough. I pray that those tears become more frequent, and more importantly that they lead to action, a giving heart, and a willingness to let go. 

What about you? What things are you holding on to? What are your suggestions for keeping yourself in check with your possessions?

Life lessons learned in stand-still traffic.

Morning traffic. Whether you live in Helena, Montana (first city that popped into my head. I attribute it to a lingering state and capitals song I learned in fourth grade I can't quite shake), San Diego, or Tulsa Oklahoma, it is an inevitable part of the commute in some way, shape or form. Whether your commute is ten minutes, or forty-five, if you don't account for the unexpected on the road, there is a possibility that traffic flow may place you in an unexpected and often frustrating time crunch.

My commute to work each morning is give or take twenty minutes. That is a choice I made in choosing my place of residence. The benefits of my choice seemed to outweigh the distance of the commute at the time. However, when I am pouring my coffee to rush out the door ten minutes later than I planned, I sometimes question my decision.

A couple of months ago, a friend introduced me to a news service that texted free weather and traffic updates. The service seems to be reliable. It sent me an alert for a tornado warning a few weeks back that I slept through. It was still sent nonetheless. The news stations can't be held accountable for my heavy sleeping patterns. Anyways, until this week, I had never received a traffic alert through this texting system. I assumed they weren't as vigilent in this area as they were in the weather department. I was wrong.

Monday morning, I received a text alert stating there was a wreck causing a large backup on the first highway I take on my commute downtown. I glanced at the message, but assumed it could not be that bad and would clear up by the time I got in my car. Thirty minutes later as I was walking outside to my car, I received another alert stating there was another accident on the second highway I would have to travel on. Being directionally challenged (all of the time) and bit groggy in the morning, I made the decision to take my usual route. There is usually a bit of traffic every morning, especially on Mondays, so surely it would not be much different than that, right?

I quickly realized that I should have taken the side roads, all the traffic lights included, in order to make it to work in half of the time I did. However, there was no turning back. My spedometer read 0 for a good 20 minutes of my commute, and I was elated when I could reach a wopping 5 mph at times. I was in standstill traffic.

There are certain situations that bring out the worst in people, and I strongly believe that traffic is one of those. Impatience, frustration, rashness, an unsolicited raise of a certain finger. Road rage if you will. Take your pick. Though these emotions range in action and intensity, they all have one thing in common. They are rooted out of looking out for number one. Selfishness.

Last week, a friend and I decided to challenge each other with a "doing" statement each week to focus on. Last week's was "do not focus on yourself or esteem yourself better than others." That all sounds great in theory, but when it became a focus, I realized I was failing miserably and that practicing the things you learn is hard and can not be done without effort, accountability or help of the Spirit.

The moment the traffic came to a standstill, my selfish inclinations became evident. I quickly caught myself and let out a big sigh, dissapointed that my human nature had once again taken over. I took a deep breath and began to pray and think. I had about an hour ahead of me in the car, and if I wasn't going to spend it tapping my foot and looking at the clock, I had to occupy my thoughts elsewhere. As I sat there, I began think about and wonder why traffic and other life situations make us feel the way they do.

1. We view others' misfortune as our inconvenience. Most of the time I am sitting in traffic, I am thinking about my schedule, my clock at work, and the best way for me to get to my exit on the highway quickly. It pains to me think how long it takes my mind to reach the point where I am thinking about the wreck causing the backup and the individuals involved in it.
2. People say worry is like a rocking chair. I think impatience is too. No matter how many times we honk our horns or rev or engines, and no matter how many dirty looks or gestures we give to the surrounding vehicles, our situation isn't made any better by our actions. They, in fact, make it worse. We make ourselves miserable with our emotions. Perhaps there is joy to be found even in our cars with our foot on the break in morning traffic. We choose to deny it though.
3. We too often worship time and a schedule. This is one I struggle with. In my book, if you aren't ten minutes early you are late. I love a to do list, especially one with time slots inserted for each item. When something or someone interferes with that schedule, I immediately let my mind enter into panic mode. Here's the thing, though. Life isn't a schedule. It's not a list. The unexpected happens, and we can't control everything (Not having control? What a concept. Maybe I should write that on my mirror), It's what we do with that lack of control and those unscheduled, unaccounted for traffic jams that will define our emotions and the way we choose to live our life.

Eventually I made it to work on Monday. The world didn't end because I was late. My to do list still got done. And making the conscious decision to remove impatience set the tone for my whole day, not just my commute. Tuesday morning I woke up to a text traffic alert. This time I heeded the warning, but still headed for the highway. I got on, pushed on my brakes, and looked ahead. Even though it wasn't planned out, this time on the road was given to me by the Lord.

Lord, teach me to love traffic jams, teach me to see joy wherever I may be, teach me to think of others first, and teach me to embrace each moment you give me, not just the scheduled ones. Let me see you in the unscheduled, chaotic moments I encounter each day.