It has been a busy few months for the Buschart family. We decided it was time to engage the process of downsizing from our wonderful family home. After much effort to clean out closets and share many items we no longer need, our home sold quickly and we moved just a month after listing in late-July.
The endless labor and energy required for this task is astounding. We began the purging in February, one closet at a time. Countless daily to-do lists and trips to donation centers were our regular routine. Six months later, the house was ready.
The process was physically demanding and all-consuming (the reason why you haven't heard from me for a while!). But the emotional roller coaster was surprising even for two adults who are pretty self-aware.
Letting Go is hard and attachments to possessions are strong. Some possessions were easier to surrender than others. Ice skates neglected and unused for 25 years. Well-worn and rarely-worn sweaters. Fabulous heels that hurt my feet.
Other possessions hold sentimental value and these had to be considered carefully before passing them on to a donation center. I'm thankful that some pieces will stay in the family while an antique tea set, a hand-painted chocolate pot and cup, and other items made it to new homes to be enjoyed by others.
For me, Letting Go of my garden was, perhaps, the hardest of all. Twenty years ago, with the help of my mother, I planted my roses soon after we moved in. Her selections included Peace and Betty Prior and Mr. Lincoln. The birds that graced the feeders in my garden were prayer partners each morning.
True Letting Go always leads us to a point of darkness that may become a turning point of our lives. Uncertainty looms. What will happen if I stay, if I cling to what is? What will happen if I surrender the known of today to the unknown possibilities beyond? Fear says, "What if . . . ?" What if I need this again? What if I never again have a garden to plant or a rose so beautiful? What if I don't have a new place to pray and to feed birds? What if the memory of loved ones fades when I let go of this memento?
It is this point of darkness and these "What if . . ." anxieties, I think, that keep us hanging on, clinging to things we no longer need and to the illusion of control in the known.
A paraphrase of Psalm 25:1-2 has long been a "breath prayer" for me and it is important during this season of Letting Go. "Unto you, O Lord, I lift up my soul; I put my trust in you."
The Lord is bigger than the darkest turning points of life. He sees, cares for his own, knows what we need, never leaves or forsakes.
I lifted up every closet, every attachment and indecision. It wasn't always pretty and we weren't always on the same page. I've questioned whether we did the right thing and I've wondered if a place of peace would again be home.
We're still waiting and we're seeking to trust Him in the uncertainty.
This season of selling our family home has been a Letting-Go season for us. But Letting Go is everywhere and always. Big or small, hard or easy, Letting Go is a daily part of life as a disciple of Jesus. The topic is worthy of another post or two for Ruminations from my Journal.
In the meantime, where in your life are you experiencing the invitation of Letting Go? Are you resisting this invitation or embracing it?
Give me a call. I would cherish the opportunity to be a dialogue partner or your Soul Care Companion through your Letting-Go season.