18 Jan Simplicity, Part 1

Simplicity.  That is my word for 2018, and I am embracing it with a vengeance.

One of the reasons that simplicity is my focus this year is that I recognize within me a deep hunger and longing for it.  I am coming off a year that was complicated and messy, with events coming at me almost faster than I could handle them.   I was in survival mode, and by the grace of God I did survive.  That is no small thing, and I am profoundly grateful for God’s goodness and faithfulness during a difficult time.  But, I am also tired of surviving.  I want to thrive.   And for me to thrive, I need some “soul space”—space to breathe and pray and read great books.  Time to play the piano for no special reason or take a leisurely, “ponder life” kind of walk.  Time to putter.  I am a big fan of puttering.

Another reason I am feeling desperate for simplicity is that I recognize that when my schedule and head and heart are cluttered with lengthy “to do” lists, I am crowding God out of my life.  There is less space to notice God’s presence, to rest in God’s grace, and to listen for God’s voice.  As I wrote last week, I want to be more aware of God, not less, so de-cluttering has become, for me, a deeply spiritual practice.  

The last reason simplicity has grabbed hold of me is that I want to deal more honestly with why I have SO. MUCH. STUFF.  As I have shared before, I am a bit of an organization freak, so when people walk into my house, “cluttered” would not be their first impression, and likely not even their fiftieth.  But, I know the truth.  Every drawer is crammed.  The closets are bursting.  Paper threatens to take over the place.  The pantry looks like we are expecting Armageddon—tomorrow.  Even though I can usually find what I am looking for, when I open my closet I don’t have a sense of spaciousness or peace.  I feel suffocated.  And I have a sneaking suspicion that I can’t thrive if I can’t breathe.

On a fairly regular basis, I clean and organize things, but that has not gotten me to the root of the problem.  I knew I needed a different approach.   One insight that proved enormously helpful was author Julie Morgenstern’s declaration that just because something is organized doesn’t mean it isn’t clutter.  If I don’t use something, it is clutter, no matter how neatly it may be put away.   That was useful, but it still wasn’t enough.  I needed to get at what my attachments were.  Why do I hold on to things that I haven’t worn or used in years?  I identified the “scarcity” mindset, rooted in fear, that was causing me, mostly unconsciously, to keep my fist tightened around things I don’t really want or need.  This insight, too, was enormously helpful and freeing.

But there was one more question that seriously kicked me into gear:  how much is enough?   Do I need multiple sets of dishes, hundreds (if not thousands of books), a dozen pairs of black pants—all different sizes, different fabrics and weights, etc., etc., etc., but really?  I felt the nudge of God’s Spirit—was it possible that if I would let go, freedom was waiting for me on the other side?   That simplicity was the gateway to space and peace for body, mind, soul and spirit?  I had the unmistakable sense that the answer was a resounding, “yes,” and that if I would exercise some faith and discipline, I might be astounded at the results.

I started.  It was a struggle at first.  The attachments were strong and the “what if” mentality has a tenacious hold.  But, I kept asking the questions:  why am I hanging on to this?  What am I afraid of?  When was the last time I used/wore this?  How much is enough?  I began to get more honest with myself.  That was hard, but good.  I was making modest progress, then I got on a roll.  With every box I filled of things to donate, space opened up in both my closet and my head and heart.  This was different.  It wasn’t just reorganizing.  This was a purge.  And the more I purged, the better I felt.  The closet took a few hours, but I couldn’t stop.  I moved on to the drawers.  Then the linen closet.  Then under my bathroom sink.

It wasn’t a total success.  I had some debates with myself over several items and I lost—for now.  But, I keep thinking about those things and I know I can do without them, that I have enough without them.  And, because I immediately began experiencing the gifts of simplicity, I am more motivated than ever to trust that letting go truly is the way to freedom.

Next week, simplicity in the areas of food and time.

Yours for the Kingdom,

Michelle