This past week, I dropped off loads and loads of things. Things kept in boxes and duffel bags for the past three years.
The things that I was gripping onto so tightly, in fear that's what I needed. Six copies of Ellery's memorial service on DVD, two swimsuits she never wore, a baby blanket that never touched her, stuffed animals she never played with.
The things that I thought would keep me close to my daughter, but were really just gathering dust in my closet.
I had the unique experience of being 28 and coming face to face with realizing what exactly you get to take with you when you die, which, spoiler alert, is nothing and also our current mortality rate, which seems to still be peaking at 100%. After Jim died, I was so overwhelmed, we like most families, had accumulated a four bedroom house full of stuff and he loved his things.
I was faced with going through box after box, drawer after drawer, pile after pile. Sorting, surrounded by the things that couldn't save him and empty tokens of a life that far surpassed his mass of things. A job most people go through for the first time when sorting through their parents things.
The feeling of overwhelm, of anxiety, of being frozen to the spot, I believe this is linked to holding onto our possessions far beyond when they serve us.
Every moment is lived once. There are so many moments I would love to live again but it's not the case and no amount of mementos or snapshots or baby booties can bring me back to them. We take these possessions with us as if they are time travelers, able to convey us back to the moment at will but it's all a falsehood.
I believe in confronting our physical things, we confront our emotional beings, the hurt, the trauma, the past. Hurt for a while, is like a wet blanket. It's not comfortable, but it seems better than nothing. Eventually though, it starts to feel itchy, uncomfortable, we wonder what a life without it would be like but are too scared to part with it.
We stockpile and we hoard, we can't imagine without so we never go without. We buy in bulk, we take two handfuls when one would do.
I'm linked to my daughter because I'm linked to her through energy and connection that I'll never be able to understand. I'm linked to her because I have faith that we will be together again, I'm linked to her because she was made in me, I gave her life. The sad pile of things though? The items I bought over and over again, thinking they would give me a greater connection to her? Those were robbing me of space, space to move on, to heal.
The truth is, immediately following I felt great. I was glad to know that another baby would be using those items I had picked out with such care. And then I've kind of crashed. I am struggling, sad and upset. Did I push too fast? Did I get rid of too much? Did I pull the bandaid off before I was ready?
No, but I made space, space in my heart and in my life. I was immediately faced with a fight to fill that space. I think the devil is trying to fill that space with doubt and disappointment and fatigue, but it's mean to be filled with contentment and grace and love. But damn is it a hard fight.
James 1:17 Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.
Ephesians 6:12 For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.
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