There is so little that is mine anymore.
Before having children, I owned all sorts of little things… knick-knacks, collections of all kinds, mementos that time-traveled me back to special moments.
Then they came.
Thrashing, flailing, playing. Being kids. Knocking down ceramic butterflies, plastic castles, and glass picture frames.
“Is nothing sacred?” I cried out to my husband, holding the shards of yet another accidental victim of childhood play.
Before children, I held things tightly. Grasped them in a claim that made them mine and my own. Slowly, those things began to fade away.
And in their place… people.
Them.
The importance and value of my little ones began to outshine any object I owned. I’d smile sadly at another lost trinket and think, “but you, child, are of more value than this item, though I thought I loved it. Is not worth contention or anger between us. I choose you.” And the shards found their way to the bottom of a bin and out of my heart.
To make the chasm between things and people even greater in our hearts and minds, we dedicated a year to purchasing ONLY used items… nothing new… to see how community could come together. How we could participate in the lives of others, and others in our lives, instead of rushing off to meet our own materialistic needs independently. And to discover what mattered enough to wait. Then a second-year was dedicated to getting rid of half of everything we owned.
My thoughts on broken items turned from sorrow to “Well, there’s one less thing to decide about! Closer to our 50% goal…”
But then all these years of learning to loosen my grasp, trade in things for lives, and content myself with relationships served a greater purpose. We were moving to Germany. We would not get rid of 50% of our things. We would get rid of 90% of all we owned and treasured.
And now I sit in a German home furnished by another. Very little is mine. Some things travel in a shipment to us… our last 10 percent. Holiday decor, family photos, clothes, and of course, books.
I suppose that means that about 0.5% of what I see belongs to me.
And I’m okay.
These last years of letting go have led me to such a place of freedom… even JOY in having less! Because what I have are the hearts, friendships, and smiles of my friends. Of my family.
People.
Whose hands I grasp as we walk this journey of life together.
Nothing else matters.
Nothing.
