Packing Up

There is something very soothing about going through my old things. They conjure up old memories and stories. They bring me back to times of peacefulness and tranquility and thoughtfulness to see how I've grown as a result or what has changed since. There is something incredibly freeing about throwing out junk that I've held on to for far too long. Spring cleaning of sorts, except it's getting to winter and it's for my entire house this time, as I attempt to pack us up and out and into a new home. The definition of my being does not equate into my belongings. What I possess in my heart should suffice as my testament.

I just saw a friend of mine whom we'll call Y. Y and I have been friends for long enough that they could tell I was a little shaken. And so they asked. And so I vaguely shed light on recent stresses. Y pushed a little more, and so I shed a larger amount of light on specifically where my heart is heavy...Now I'm not one to open up in general, if at all. But this is a friend. But this "friend" was disinterested and didn't want to hear it. I got about 3 sentences into it and it was clear that's not what Y expected to hear, and so Y was done listening. Remember that wall? I'd gotten several rows lower than I ever have before. Hand me those bricks now please, cause it's going right back up.

When we brought Mama home from the hospital on hospice, I was a wreck. I was doing everything to keep it together on the outside, but I was absolutely chaotic and lost on the inside. Y happened to call on day #2 of Mama being home and said they'd be in town soon and would like to swing by. Oh and I'm thinking Glory Hallelujah! Y will come and I can have a few moments of extra support; this is just what I need. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. And so I waited, expectantly, excitedly. But Y never came. I should have known better. I don't know why I get my hopes up. Y never even called until long after Mama had died. I didn't know this would become Y's pattern.

So as I'm cleaning out my house, I'm also cleaning out my heart. Sometimes it's beautiful and mostly it's not. Mostly it's hard to face fears head on. I need not place my expectations and faith on any being on this Earth. And I need not place my personal worth on any tangible object, just the love of my Savior in my soul. I will still love Y too, but no longer will Y have permission to hurt me any more. Because I'm throwing that out too, right into the trash, right where it belongs.