Posts Categorized: Self-Control

“Unsafe at Any Speed”

| Patience, Self-Control

Ralph Nader, a political activist in the mid-sixties, wrote the book Unsafe at Any Speed, which describes the dangers in several cars at the time. I’ve come to believe that I might be unsafe at any speed. Recently, a couple of items have suddenly appeared in front of me while I was driving.

Peter was visiting us last week, and Monday, I drove him back home. It’s a straight shot from Waco to Fort Worth, and there wasn’t very much traffic, either way. On the way home, I stopped at West, where there’s a big bank of gas pumps, and a large place to shop for souvenirs, drinks, and famous Czech kolaches. I bought David a brisket kolache for dinner and some tea to drink, got back in the car, and drove on home.

The traffic was pretty light. At some point, as I was driving 70 or so mph, down I35, the car in front of me changed lanes, and, as I traveled in that lane, I saw what seemed like . . . a shadow? On the road? And, no. It wasn’t a shadow. It was, I’m pretty sure, a piece of a tire. And I ran over it.

There was an impressive THUMP underneath the car, and, in the rear view mirror, I could see what seemed like tire pieces scattering around on the road behind me.

Oh, Dear. I very carefully watched the dials on the dashboard, looking for evidence of what might have happened. The gas needle stayed in place. No lights came on. Maybe everything was all right.

As I drove into Waco, the car seemed to run normally. When I got home, David was there, and I pulled into the garage and went to explain what happened and asked him to look under the car and try to determine if he could see any damage. No liquids were dripping down on the garage floor. I’d driven several miles without any emergency lights coming on. No shaking, no rattling, things seemed normal. So, we just assumed that whatever noise I’d heard hadn’t done any damage to the car.

He checked again the next morning, and didn’t see any leaking or dripping.

A little later, I was on my way to run some errands. (Peter had left his piano music book here and would like to have it, and Jeremy needed a certified birth certificate. So, to the health department and the post office.) I backed out of the garage and pulled out of the driveway. And . . . SCRAPE! Scrape? I parked the car and got out to look. Ooohhh. That big noise that I thought was under the car? It was the big piece of tire slamming into the front of the car.

And it looks like this:

 

 

 

Later in the day (still Tuesday), I was driving down a four-lane street, on my way to the post office, and, in front of me, there was a heavily-loaded pickup truck that seemed to be part of a moving-day trip. A large blanket, or maybe, a tarp, sailed off the top of the truck’s load. I changed lanes to avoid the tarp, which landed in the lane behind the truck. Then, a block or so later, some pieces of light-weight furniture (?), maybe, dropped right off the truck, into my lane, right in front of me. REALLY!! REALLY!! I was able to come to a stop, right behind the debris. And I sat there. Cars came up behind me. I didn’t get out. I just sat there, shrieking in my head. WHAT’S GOING ON WITH ME AND MY CAR AND ROAD DEBRIS! The pickup truck slowly backed up, complicated by the cars trying to get around me. The people in the truck smiled at me and got out and retrieved their stuff, and I just nodded and waited.

It looked like this:

 

 

So far this week, on Wednesday and Thursday, I’ve not had any road disasters. We did however, have to make a trip to the the collision place to get an estimate. Let’s don’t talk about that right now.

 

Everything on earth has its own time and its own season.
There is a time for birth and death,
    planting and reaping, for killing and healing,
    destroying and building, for crying and laughing,
    weeping and dancing

Ecclesiastes 3:1-4 (Contemporary English Version)

 

So, I’ve done the destroying and weeping, and now I’m ready for the healing and laughing.

The Good, The Bad, The Snowy

| Faithfulness, Joy, Patience, Peace, Self-Control

“We’ll just have to wait and see.” That’s what the state’s chief horticulturist says. In his weekly newspaper column and the weekly e-mails he sends out, he answers questions about plants and landscaping and garden care. What he says in, at least one of those outlets each week, is that “we’ll just have to wait and see,” how the perennial/annual plants and trees and lawns will come back (or not) in our landscapes.

My next door neighbor has two epic Live Oak trees. The horticulturist has said, after that giant sleet, snow, and ice storm we had, we should give our Live Oaks the time they need to heal. We don’t have Live Oak trees. We have a big crepe myrtle, and a pecan that’s lost as many small limbs as those crepe myrtles. Both of those trees are probably able to regroup and live!

“We will just have to wait and see.”

 

Meanwhile, we have some other kinds of plants, and almost all of them have rebounded. Like these:

I can see the still somewhat small, but older, living plants, and then the lower plants which aren’t even trying to make it. (And, don’t be fooled by all the green, green, healthy plants. Those are daisies.)

These plants are a little hard to see well. There are three that are growing back, green and full. Then, in between those good plants, there are some broken down-to-sticks plants. The broken down ones have died off completely, even though the living plants have become found. They are Turk’s Caps. I was at a lovely nursery recently, and an employee has been explaining the growing habits of these plants. I found a pink variety of them, but, couldn’t purchase them, because I’m not sure which ones I’d planted. I know there were three red ones and three pink ones. And, apparently, one kind is much more winter tolerant than the other.

Check later, to see which ones really are winter tolerant.

 

 

 

 

 

 For his anger is but for a moment, and his favor is for a lifetime. Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning.
Psalm 30:5 (Revised Standard Version)

 

I have said to David that he should NOT buy me any birthday gifts, or Mother’s Day gifts. I have spent quite a lot on plants. And potting soil. And plant food. I should start thinking more carefully about perennials instead of annuals.

 

Out with the Old, In With . . .

| Patience, Peace, Self-Control

Nothing

Over the years, I’ve amassed lots of cookware and bakeware. Most of what I got as wedding gifts (ever so long ago) has been broken, dented, and/or warped. I’ve received some replacement and/or new items, like a crepe pan, that I used a couple of times, stored for years, and finally passed on. After my parents were gone, and we moved into the house in which JoAnne and I grew up, I kept a few of my mother’s things. I ended up with some duplicates, like rectangular baking pans with lids, and (Pyrex) rectangular baking dishes.

For a while, I needed those things. When my sister’s family lived in Texas (and they came and went a couple of times), they might come to visit a few times a year, which would mean more kitchen-related activities. When the boys were growing up, we would have their friends over for get-togethers, and I would cook and bake. There would be pot-luck dinners at church, which do sort of happen, or did, until recently, but they’re not quite the same. People often bring boxes of fried chicken or pizzas from local food establishments, and they bring side dishes from those places, too.

Years ago, when a new family moved into the neighborhood, ladies would cook a casserole or a dessert to take to the new folks. These days, people have a variety of food habits, like lactose-free, keto, low-carb, vegetarian. I wouldn’t dream of taking a meat loaf or a gelatin salad to someone I didn’t know. I take apples.

So, ultimately, I don’t need much in the way of cookware and bakeware. I have one large pot with a lid. I have one good-sized skillet, also with a lid. I have one large and one medium sized glass baking dish. I have two (one large, one small) racks for cooling baked goods, like cookies and scones. I do have four cookie sheets, of various sizes. I primarily use them as bases for freezing things like rolls that I will heat up later and things like meatballs, chicken breasts, and fish, that I will store (after freezing) in storage bags and remove one at a time to prepare for dinner. (Well, more than one meatball.) And, of course, those cookies and/or scones.

When Peter comes, we might make bread. I have loaf pans for loaves, muffin tins for rolls, and those cookie sheets for more creative arrangements of dough.

 

By this time they were in front of Peter’s house. On entering, Jesus found Peter’s mother-in-law sick in bed, burning up with fever. He touched her hand and the fever was gone. No sooner was she up on her feet than she was fixing dinner for him.

Matthew 8:14-15 (The Message Translation)

 

If Jesus came to my house, I’d be able to stir up some dinner pretty quickly, because my kitchen is, for the moment, at least, pretty well organized. And, I’m pretty sure there’s food in the freezer.

 

Here’s all the cookware that’s bagged up, in the car’s trunk, on the way to Goodwill.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I Said I Didn’t Want It, But No One Paid Any Attention

| Faithfulness, Kindness, Love, Patience, Self-Control

I’ve been doing stuff with kids at church for quite some time: Children’s Choir, Preschool Choir, Wednesday night activities, and, finally, Preschool Sunday School.

I’ve had different configurations of groups. At the beginning, it was 4-year-olds. Then, we grouped Threes into the mix. Then, it was just Threes. Then it just varied for a few years, based on how many kids and how many adults and what sorts of spaces. For the last several years, it’s been Three-year-olds, Pre-Ks, and Kindergartners. A few years ago, I thought: “I’ll keep teaching Sunday School as long as I have Peter in my room.”

Fall, a year ago, Peter, as a first-grader, moved up to the Younger Elementary class. But, I had looked at the incoming Threes, and they were so very cute that I thought, “Okay. One more year. And THAT’S ALL!” They were just as charming as they were cute, and things went along quite nicely until mid-March, when everything came to a halt.

Each week, I would mail them the pages that they would have taken home from church, along with a note, or a game, or some cookies, or some crayons, or some stickers. At some point, I told the Children’s Minister that I would be done at the end of August. “Every part of me hurts,” I said. “My hands hurt. My knees hurt.” And, truly, I felt like I would soon be a liability instead of an asset. I also said that I didn’t want a deal, or a thing, or anything or the sort. I would just be done. She thought that the members of the Children’s committee should know, and I thought that they really didn’t. Because, I didn’t want a deal or a thing. And I thought that was that.

That was NOT that.

I got an e-mailed Agenda for an upcoming ZOOM Children’s Committee meeting which included an item “Gayle’s Announcement.” So, not exactly a private thing any more.

Someone at the meeting thought I needed a deal. The first thing that popped up was a post on Facebook, with a rather LARGE photo of me and the line “Shhhh. Don’t tell! We want to thank Gayle Lintz for 42 years of teaching Preschool Sunday School, by writing her letters, which we will give her later.” (Or something like that)

I e-mailed the Children’s Minister and said, “I AM on Facebook. FYI.”

My nice book of appreciation.

So, it wasn’t quite so secret after all. Then, the next plan was that the letters would be received and collected and given to me. The Children’s Minister recently contacted me and said that they’d like to give those to me during an upcoming worship service. At this point we’ve not been having worship services with a congregation. The staff comes and opens up the place on Sunday morning. There are instrumentalists (piano, organ, guitar, drums/percussion, and horn). There are four choir members who sing (all masked up) from the sanctuary platform while we participate from home via video. There are Scripture readings and a sermon and announcements and prayers. Last Sunday, we went, too. Kevin and April and Peter came for the weekend, also. We sat on one row, towards the front, all masked up. At the end of the service, I went up front and got a lovely book that had all the kind things that people had written for me.

 

 

 

 

And then . . .  I got this. And, for real, I was horrified. Because, over the years, various people have lobbied for just such a thing for one nursery teacher or elementary teacher or preschool teacher or another, and the general attitude as been that there have been many competent, capable, loving teachers through the years and we just cannot cover the walls with all of their names. So, I’m setting a precedent? I believe my response, when they picked it up to show me, was NOOOOOOOO. They were unmoved.

They said it went through the Children’s Committee and the Coordinating Council and I don’t know who all else. And it is a done deal.

 

 

I had insisted, when they said they wanted me to show up (to get those letters), that I wanted to speak. And, boy, did I speak. I talked about how, just because I’ve done the same thing for so many years, it doesn’t seem extraordinary, because so many people in the church have done a variety of things for many years, the sum total of which are just as significant as doing one thing for years. “Everybody does something,” I said. And I gave examples of the sorts of things that members of our church family have done, such as serving on committees, being deacons, being part of the choir (which means Wednesday night rehearsals and Sunday morning anthems), giving financially, praying diligently, and more. “Everybody does something,” I said. “EVERYBODY does something.” And I meant it.

 

 

 

 

Kevin took this photo, after everything was finished, to send to Jeremy, to show him how I feel about this. It’s so large I don’t know exactly where they plan to put it. Maybe they didn’t get that far in their thinking.

As we were leaving, Kevin pointed out the plaque that is on the organ, that honors a long-time organist. (You can actually see the edge of it in the photo above.) Then, in the hallway, he also reminded me of the photo hanging there, that recognizes a church member who, for many, many years, would cheerfully greet everyone who walked into the church and give them a hug.

Across the hallway from that photo, there’s a large plaque honoring the church’s first pastor. And, down in the Fellowship Hall, another portrait honoring a man who donated the money to renovate the that space. And, a large photo recognizing a beloved Minister of Education is upstairs in a meeting room.

So, while it does feel rather awkward, really awkward, I’m trying to become accustomed to the idea.

 

“Wonderful!” his master replied. “You are a good and faithful servant … Come and share in my happiness!”

from Matthew 25:21 (Contemporary English Version)

 

In an interesting, and amusing, mixup, three or four weeks ago, at the end of the video worship service, the Associate Pastor reminded people to send their letters to the church to be gathered to give me in a few weeks. And, again, I thought that they’ve just completely given up on any idea of those being a surprise. This past Sunday, he told me (in case I hadn’t heard it for myself) about that gaffe. He said that after the video streaming was shut off, other staff members came up to him, wide-eyed, to ask why he’d made that announcement, reminding him that is was supposed to be a surprise. He reminded them that there had been announcements and reminders in the church’s e-mailed newsletter for several weeks. Unbeknownst to him, the office staff had been creating special, sans-surprise, newsletters to be e-mailed to both me and David. And I, as always, very much enjoy a good, funny story. So, it all worked out.

In Which I’m Getting Stuff Done

| Patience, Self-Control

I’ve been cleaning out some spaces. The closet in the room that’s also my office has been pretty packed. First, there’s a filing cabinet on one side. My dad bought it from his workplace when they were replacing older ones. This one has deep, sturdy drawers. When my folks got new carpeting (quite a few years ago), the carpet layers moved furniture from one room, laid carpet, then replaced the furniture. Things went fine until they got to the closet with the filing cabinet. They were unable to budge it, and said it would have to be emptied so they could lay the final bit of carpet. The difficulty was my dad’s deep and abiding interest in pennies. He’d been a coin collector for years and the bulk of his collection was in safe deposit boxes at their bank. But, he’d kept the pennies in the filing cabinet, along with copies of his speeches from Toastmaters and various and sundry other things. Daddy and I hauled bank bags of pennies from the cabinet’s drawers and stashed them around the room, which, by then, had been re-carpeted and the furniture replaced. The carpet layers were able to move the much lighter filing cabinet, lay down the last bit of carpet, and replace cabinet. Daddy and I put all those pennies back into the filing cabinet, where they stayed for many more years.

After my parents were both gone, and my sister and I had gone through the house, deciding what each of us would keep and what would be part of an estate sale, David and I moved in. I kept the nice big filing cabinet in the closet and used it for my own files. I also store all my other office stuff, like paper and file folders and index cards and things like that on shelves on the opposite side of the closet. There’s a small chest on that side, too, which has rolls of contact paper and empty picture frames in the drawers.

The space has been crammed with stuff I used for teaching everyone from community college students to Sunday School teachers to preschoolers. I’ve been going through things. Rigorously.

I can now see the closet’s floor. Yes, I can. It’s been quite a while. Maybe as long ago as when the closet was re-carpeted.

When I look at the bags and boxes of things I’ve removed from the closet, it’s immense. I’m not quite sure if I could put it all back in there. But, I’m not going to try. What has come out is staying out. The closet rather reminds me of the Tardis, which is the blue telephone booth that Dr. Who travels around in. Everyone who goes into the Tardis is astonished by how much bigger than a phone booth the place is. The official explanation that the alien Doctor gives to puzzled companions is that the Tardis is “dimensionally transcendental.” That means that the inside and the outside of the ship exist in separate dimensions. Dimensions allow scientists to locate something in space and time.

Dimensional transcendentalism was the state wherein an object’s interior was bigger than its exterior, an effect made possible by transdimensional engineering. I don’t understand any of that. I’m just pretty sure that I couldn’t possibly get all the stuff that came out of the closet back into the closet. And I do not plan to try.

 

There is a time for finding and losing, keeping and giving …

Ecclesiastes 3:6 (Contemporary English Version)

 

 

And, in other news:

Squirrels. Again.

| Patience, Self-Control

I’ve talked about squirrels before, including a comment from an exterminator that people only think squirrels are cute because of their bushy tails, and, without those cute tails, they’d just look like big rats.

Anyway, I’m not all that fond of them, and, as of Thursday morning, I’m not fond of them at all.

They’ve been racing around the back yard, frantically searching for pecans. They stop, mid-race, and begin to burrow for buried pecans. There are no buried pecans. This is, apparently, a non-pecan year for us. Last year, even with marauding squirrels, we had some pecans. Not tons. But some. This year–nothing. Nada. Nary a nut. The squirrels haven’t noticed. Or, they just don’t believe it’s true. No nuts this year.

Which does NOT keep them from gamely trying. After rummaging around in the yard, they’re now trying the patio plants. Where there are also no pecans. I purchased, from the nursery, some spray that’s supposed to be a squirrel deterrent. It’s a safe product (won’t harm humans, or, for that matter, squirrels); it’s just supposed to be obnoxious to them. It doesn’t appear to be all that annoying to them, but I keep trying. I spray it on the patio plants. I spray it around the perimeter of the patio. It smells bad to me, but it seems not to have that effect on squirrels. But I was particularly irritated yesterday morning when I walk outside and found . . .

The Before Photo

Oh, no. There’s NOT a “Before” photo. Only an “After” photo.

 

There are pits in the dirt of many of the patio pots, where squirrels have been digging. You know, just in case there might be a crunchy pecan in there.

 

And don’t even say, “Well, they were there first.” No, they were not here first. When all the houses in this area were built, it was pretty much prairie. There wasn’t a tree anywhere near, and certainly not a pecan tree. And, I suppose you’ll say, well, when your dad dug a big ol’ hole into which he planted a pecan tree, he was just asking for it. I’m pretty sure that, when he planted that tree, there weren’t any squirrels. Yet.

I wonder if, next fall, I could get ahead of the game and strew a bunch of peanuts around the yard, the squirrels would be preoccupied with them, and leave alone whatever pecans there might be. It could work out for the squirrels, as getting peanuts out of a peanut shell would be much easier than pecans.

 

God made all sorts of wild animals and cattle and reptiles. And God was pleased with what he had done.

Genesis 1:25 (The Living. Bible)

 

I guess this means that I should be pleased, also. I’m trying.

I Am NOT a Shoplifter!

| Faithfulness, Self-Control

I’m really not, at all, a shoplifter. I just thought, for a short while, that I might be. Inadvertently, but still, maybe.

After using a particular brand of skin care and makeup for many, many years, I changed brands. I’d talked with my sister about what I was using now. I’d purchased the cleanser and moisturizer, and that sort of thing, but I’d not been able to find the makeup. I asked what she’d used and what color worked best for her, and I got helpful advice. I had looked for the makeup at a few stores, but without success. And I thought it might be a product that had to be ordered, instead of just picked up in the cosmetic aisle.

A few days ago, while doing shopping for arriving company, I turned the corner at my grocery store, and TA-DAH! There was a stocked supply of the brand I was searching for and a variety of hues of makeup. I spent several minutes looking at the bottles, comparing colors, putting bottles next to the inside of my wrist (which is how and where one is supposed to do that sort of thing). I finally chose the one I thought was best. The bottle was slender, and I was careful about where to put it in the basket, lest it roll around and possibly slip through the spaces of the cart and get lost.

“Maybe I should put it in my purse until I get to the checkout,” I thought. (Foreshadowing? Possibly.)

I did a bit more shopping, then waited, at a six-foot distance, for my turn at the checkout, and unloaded my groceries onto the conveyor belt. I helped bag up my groceries, plopped them back into the cart, and wheeled them out to my car. I unloaded the cart and drove back home. I’d made several stops during the morning and needed several trips into the house to empty the car. I was weary and only removed the cold and frozen stuff from the bags, to put away. Everything else could wait until later, to be stored on cabinet and pantry shelves.

The next morning, I cleaned and freshened up my face, ready to apply that brand-new makeup.  I went back to the kitchen and began digging in the bags that hadn’t yet been unloaded. No makeup.

“Nooooo,” I thought. Had I, after all, put the makeup in my purse to stay safe, and forgotten to remove it and have it scanned? I retrieved the receipt for my shopping trip. Oh, no. There was no makeup on the list.

“I’m going to have to go back to HEB and confess my problem and pay for it,” I thought. I would need to go back as soon as possible, in the event that there were cameras (and, surely, there are cameras). I dug, carefully and diligently, through my purse. Hmmmm. No makeup.

So, if I hadn’t put it in my purse, and I hadn’t taken it from the cart, then where was the makeup? Either I hadn’t noticed it in the cart and neglected to remove it, or it had actually done as I feared, and fallen out of the cart, after all. Whichever was the case, I was not a shoplifter, accidentally or purposefully.

But, I was going to need to go back to the store and get that makeup that I wanted to use. And, of course, there were a few things that I’d thought of that I should get, too.

 

No! For unless you are honest in small matters, you won’t be in large ones. If you cheat even a little, you won’t be honest with greater responsibilities.

Luke 16:10 (The Living Bible Translation)

 

 

And I object to folks who walk through the produce department and pull a few grapes from their stems and walk away, munching on them.

My Tire Was Tired

| Patience, Self-Control

Back in June, Kevin and April and Peter came for a Father’s Day visit. We had talked with them about the problem of our out-dated garage door opener situation and the suspended shelves that would, eventually, have to be removed in order to have the newer-type of garage door openers installed. They offered to take on the task of removing those shelves. They spent a couple of days taking down boxes that contained some of Kevin’s things and some of Jeremy’s things and some of our things. And, then, the more complicated process of removing the shelves themselves, and the supports from which the shelves were suspended.

It took a while.

We found places (some temporary) for the boxes that came down. But there was quite a bit of lumber, scraps, large nails, etc. that we couldn’t really reuse. April and I took the usable wood to Waco ReStore, a place where donations of new materials are used for Habitat for Humanity homes, and usable recycled materials are sold at discount prices, enabling people to work on their own homes and also keeping those things out of the local landfill.

Still, there was quite a bit of junky debris that we loaded into their car and my trunk and took to the local citywide recycling center, which also takes scrap and junk that might be too bulky to fit in our regular trash containers. We tossed that stuff into large metal bins

All that happened on Thursday and Friday. Saturday morning, I went out to run some errands and restock the cabinets and fridge.

My car has a space on the dashboard where I can see what my speed is. But, it’s also a sort of information center. If someone gets out of the car and doesn’t completely close the car’s door, an alert pops up, as I might be driving away, that says, “Door Ajar,” and the little diagram shows me which door isn’t closed properly. If the temperature drops, it will warn me that there might be ice on the road, due to the cold. It doesn’t, however, realize that there hasn’t been any rain, so, no ice. Still, if there ever is rain and freezing temps, I’ll be glad for the information.

This is the tire track that the flat tire on the car made. I took this photo a couple of days ago, in other words, it’s been there for two months. We’ve had rain, some of it quite heavy. And, there have been lots of intense sunshine. And still, the tire print is still there. Quite clearly.

It also tells me if a tire is low, and it identifies which tire needs air. That is what I saw while I was out on errands. It said, “Tire pressure low.” So, I realized that, when I was done with my errands and got back home, I should let David know, as he is the tire guy for us.

I made several stops, the last one being Target, close to home. As I drove that last mile home, the car seemed to be driving rather rough, and when I got home, I drove the car into the driveway, stopping before going into the garage. When I got out and looked, that tire seemed, rather, sort of, quite flat.

I fetched David. And said, “The car always gives me plenty of warning. It said, “Tire pressure is low,” not “Tire is completely flat!”

So, the jack has to come out and lift the car. The lug nuts have to come off and the very flat tire removed. The doughnut tire has to be attached. And the car has to go off to get a new tire.

During all this, Kevin says, “Remember yesterday, when we were at the local recycling place? And April said, ‘There are lots of nails lying around here.'”

Yes, we did remember that. So, I’d been driving around all morning on a tire that had a nail. And the accompanying hole.

 

 

Our counsel is that you warn the freeloaders to get a move on. Gently encourage the stragglers, and reach out for the exhausted, pulling them to their feet. Be patient with each person, attentive to individual needs.

1 Thessalonians 5:14 (The Message Translation)

 

A few days after Kevin and April got home, Kevin called me. Seems like April also got a nail in one of her tires, too. Fortunately, they discovered it before she drove it to death; it must have been a pretty small nail. And, I’m grateful that people in my family treat me with patience.

I Say Tomato; You Say Light Bulb

| Self-Control

I suppose life would be much less interesting if everyone had the same, exact, idea about how we ought to organize stuff. Easier, maybe, but less interesting. We all have varied ideas about how storage spaces should be organized. And, what exactly should be in those storage spaces

Clothes? Arrange clothing by season? By color? By frequency of wear? By when and where the clothes are worn? Or, the popular, whatever! style of closet organization. And what are you going to do with your shoes? Are you the kind of person who has so many clothes that you put the out-of-season clothes in a different closet. (And, do you really have an extra closet?) And, will you remember what’s in the other closet? Will you buy a winter coat, forgetting that you already have a winter coat, but you forgot about it, because it was in a trunk in the garage?

Games? Sort by the age group that plays the game? Sort by size of box the game is in? Sort by family popularity of the game? And would that mean that the Monopoly game would end up on the top, not easily accessible shelf in the closet?

Puzzles? Are you actually going to work a puzzle a second time, anyway? And, you could try to sell the puzzle in a garage sale, but who would be willing to purchase a puzzle that might have a few missing pieces?

Can you get in the closet where the games and puzzles are? I can get in my game and puzzle closet . . . if I take the vacuum cleaner out first.

And what about books? Should the cookbooks be in the kitchen? (I know, that does seem sensible, but . . .) If I have a holiday cookbook that only gets used a couple of weeks a year, should that one get shelf space in the kitchen if I’m only going to look at it in December. I know an interior designer who thought books should be shelved by color, which, I agree, would be attractive, but what if I’m wanting to do some research and I cannot recall what color the Thesaurus was. (Of course, that’s silly, who actually uses a real Thesaurus these days, when there’s one online.)

Do you have a junk drawer? And, if so, why? Really? Junk? Of course, it’s probably a miscellaneous stuff drawer (I don’t have any junk, do you?).

You might have a place where you keep your well-organized stash of fabric/patterns/yarn/knitting needles/crochet hooks/thread/needles and pins/and those sorts of things.

You might create wonderful photograph albums/memory books/scrapbooks. And where will you keep all the things you need for putting together the photograph albums/memory books/scrapbooks?

Christmas? The tree/the lights/the ornaments/the wrapping paper/the ribbon/the tape/the gift tags/the greeting cards/the tree skirt/the candles/the holiday tablecloth and napkins and placemats (I’m going to have to stop!)

And, of course, what I’m keeping, organizing, and storing is probably much different from what you’re keeping, organizing, and storing. Not necessarily better, just different.

 

Don’t hoard treasure down here where it gets eaten by moths and corroded by rust or—worse!—stolen by burglars. Stockpile treasure in heaven, where it’s safe from moth and rust and burglars. It’s obvious, isn’t it? The place where your treasure is, is the place you will most want to be, and end up being.

Matthew 6:19-21 (The Message Translation)

 

Hmmm. Maybe I need to be re-thinking what my storage areas say about me.

 

Hoardette

| Joy, Peace, Self-Control

I do keep things. And, just possibly, there are spaces in my home where there are things that I don’t necessarily need, but that I think I should hang onto. For a while. Maybe.

And, while all this staying at home, and not going out unless you absolutely must, and staying away from people, is important, it’s also not much different from the normal and usual for me. I’m not as likely to browse in stores any more, and, while we rarely went out to eat, now that’s pretty much become never. But my life has been much less restricted than most folks, simply because I wasn’t out and about that much.

I have noticed how full the parking lots at Lowe’s and Home Depot have been, as I shopped there for plants and gardening supplies. It seems that people have been using their stay-at-home time for projects that might have been put off and delayed for various reasons. And I’ve thought hmmm, maybe I should be thinking about some home improvement pursuits, myself.

I started with the linen closet, tossing out old towel sets (that were too embarrassingly worn to even be used as rags), rearranging some things, and trying to make it easier to find those things that guests might need when they’re staying over. Stuff went to Goodwill, stuff went to the trash, stuff got moved to different locations. The flashlights that were stored there were nonfunctional and got replaced. I occasionally open the linen closet door, just to see how nice and neat it looks.

I got my own closet better organized.

In the kitchen, my Christmas dishes take up quite a bit of room. We use them for a few days a year. But, they’re my CHRISTMAS dishes. So, no culling for that kitchen cabinet. Just this evening, we were looking at a chunk of chocolate that was the result of a recipe that Peter and I tried that went really wrong. Peter was thinking that, if we had a grater, we could at least turn it into smaller pieces. “Do you have a grater, Mimi?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“I was thinking about a lemon grater.”

“Nope, sorry.”

Peter opened several drawers and searched through them. No luck. I looked in cabinets. Aha.

I have a small food processor.

“This might work,” I said, and put it together and plugged it in. After cutting the chunk of chocolate into pieces that would fit into the little processor, I attached the lid and turned the thing on. It worked well. So, I’m thinking that I don’t actually need a grater.

The place I’ve been putting the most energy on right now is my office, which is also a guest room, with a twin bed and trundle, and also the place where my treadmill is. And it’s the smallest bedroom in the house. The closet has a large filing cabinet in it. There are two long shelves across the top, and on the side opposite the filing cabinet, there are a couple of short shelves. Under those shelves is a small chest of drawers, which, at this time, holds a drawer full of clear and patterned Contact paper and two drawers of picture frames.

I found the grade book from when I taught at the local community college.  I glanced over the pages and then shredded them all. I also found folders with copies of student evaluations. I looked at a few of them. They’re mostly quite positive. Maybe I’ll keep a few of them. There are folders with handouts that I’ve used, and folders with colored paper that I use mostly for Bible-related games at church. There are folders with copies of periodicals that contain things I’ve written. Lots of things can go. Lots of things can stay.

 

On the floor-things to use up, things to give away, things to keep, maybe, things to throw away

There’s that old adage that says, “As soon as you throw something away, you apt to discover that you needed it after all.” Maybe, for some things, but not for most things. I’m trying to make good decisions. I do toss old pens that don’t work and wooden pencils that are too short to hold on to. I get rid of clothes that I don’t wear any more (the trash if they’re tattered, a helping agency if they’re wearable). I toss the newspaper out every day and don’t keep magazines I’ve read. (But there can be a problem if I’ve not gotten around to reading those magazines. Sounds like I shouldn’t subscribe to them, huh?) And I do have every painting that Peter has made at our house. But, one step at a time, right? I’m trying to discern between “Oh, I really like this,” and “Oh, I really (yes, really, honestly, completely) need and use this.” One closet at a time.

 

 

 

 

For it was only through this wonderful grace that we believed in him. Nothing we did could ever earn this salvation, for it was the gracious gift from God that brought us to Christ! So no one will ever be able to boast, for salvation is never a reward for good works or human striving. We have become his poetry, a re-created people that will fulfill the destiny he has given each of us, for we are joined to Jesus, the Anointed One. Even before we were born, God planned in advance our destiny and the good works we would do to fulfill it!

Ephesians 2:8-10 (The Passion Translation)

 

I love this passage, and I love this translation of the passage. Our lives are sometimes extraordinary and sometimes mundane. But we have become his poetry! Even when I’m ironing, or cleaning the bathrooms, or going with Peter to purchase food items for the Family Pantry, I’m God’s poetry. Even when I’m just cleaning out a closet.