In the process of really figuring out who I am and who I want to be, I’ve found myself drawn to getting rid of stuff. I look around our house and everywhere my eye lands, I see stuff. It’s not dirty. It’s not hoarding. Just a lot of stuff that we’ve collected over the years as a family. So when a friend called me and asked if I had any stuff I’d like to add to her garage sale, I jumped at the chance. I started walking through the house so excited at the idea of finally opening up some much needed space in our lives. Then, it came down to actually putting that stuff in boxes. (I wonder how many times a person can use the word, stuff, in a paragraph before the proper writing police step in.)
I would love to say it was easy to part with the things we haven’t used in years, but it wasn’t. It was hard to say good-bye to all those Bob books that taught my children to read, but I saw them go to a family with young children eager to begin that journey themselves. It made me a bit teary eyed to watch as the boys built those Tigger and Winnie the Pooh floor puzzles one last time just to check and see if we had all the pieces. I remember well the many hours I spent on the floor with them as toddlers as they struggled to understand how those huge funny shaped pieces work together to reveal a beloved character. Now another mom will get to have that wonderful experience.
As I watch our things go to new homes, I’m so glad that someone else saw a little value in something we enjoyed. It’s hard to let the things go because they hold some beautiful memories, but I’m only saying goodbye to the stuff, not the memories. And the memories are what really matter because that is what builds our family.