To Life, Decluttered

Those of you who know me (like, you've seen me in my PJs at noon and my bomb-of-a-kitchen floor as it looks, um, well, right now) know that, despite frequent appearances to the contrary, I'm a decently organized person. I really like folded towels stacked cleanly in the spare bathroom closet, the boys' beds made neatly with their pillows arranged squarely, my spice and baking cupboard to be accessible and neat. I used to think I was a neat freak, and maybe she's lurking deep down underneath the mommy survival gland, where she'll emerge with a whimper or a shriek someday when diapers no longer habitate our space. But in the meantime, I'm trying to become more practical than getting every.single.hair out of every.single.corner of the bathroom. Like the hairs you can't even see...unless you're on your knees with a two-inch view. Not that I used to do that. Because I didn't. But it makes me feel better to set up a uber-hygenic straw man (or woman--hey, I'm not discriminatory!) so I can congratulate myself on not burdening my children with Ebola. Yet. Anyway, I guess I figure that if I was a "real" neat freak, I'd be one that stayed up until all hours cleaning my house so it looked like a magazine spread. And I'm obviously not the type to stay up to all hours unless I'm watching Downton Abbey or reading some hilariously awesome mommy blog.

So on to the practicalities of cleanliness. I've found that with every kid, once we hit about nine or ten months post-birth, I get this crazy, crazy urge to purge our house. Much of this comes from the dozen or so boxes we've alternately moved, consolidated, repackaged, shifted, and just blatantly ignored in our eight years of marriage. I've gone through a lot of stuff, but these basement dwellers start to eat at me once babies are more mobile, off Mommy, and generally able to amuse themselves for longish stretches of time. I want those boxes to go. I want them to die. I want to be able to actually look at the stuff we're keeping if it's so darn valuable to us. I want closets that are 40% full. I think what comes over me in these times of intense desire for order and neatness is a renewed belief, as screwed up theologically as it can be, in the old phrase, "Cleanliness is next to godliness." As a good Lutheran, I scoff at the idea that God actually cares if all my husband's socks are put together or my kitchen floor is clean or even if I've got twelve boxes of papers and remembrance clutter in my laundry room. But I do think He cares--and actually judges me--for sinfully neglecting my vocation as a wife and mother if I don't take care of those who have been gifted to me. And I so spectacularly fail at this every single day, even on those few days I do manage to do laundry, fold it, and actually put it away, that I thank God in His Son Jesus that He forgives me for all my selfishness for throwing the socks in the drawer, for not cleaning the floor, for leaving stuff to pile up, year after year.

And not to sound glib, but the fact is the mess remains. I don't live with cheap grace, thinking I don't have to do stuff because Jesus saved me for it anyway. "Thanks, Jesus, for saving me from eternal damnation! Now I don't have to clean out the dryer lint." I do live, though, sanctified in His grace. So maybe that's part of what's gotten me moving on the morass underneath me. I'm not saying you're not saved if you've got a mess in your house. I'm just thinking that cleanliness can so help us focus on what's most important--the saving work of Christ. Instead of being distracted by muck and clutter, I can think about Jesus. "Cleanliness is next to godliness."  So in terms of our basement right now, that means--you guessed it--a monster mess.

While upstairs is pretty decluttered,* our basement right now has multiple boxes just sitting there, waiting for me to go through. Yesterday I spent about five hours going through about one box of stuff. Hey--I had to know what I was throwing! And I know it'll get easier. I also know just beginning this dream-of-a-purge project I've had for years has actually made me able, today, to think about what my house and my lifelong work of keeping up with stuff will look like after this is through. It won't be a weight around my neck. It won't be a guilt-inducer anytime I sit down to rest. It won't be a huge pain in the rear to move if we ever move. It will be a less complicated living space. It will be a nicer place to be. It will be a home where, God willing, it will be easier for us to think every day on Christ and His unfailing mercies. So on to life uncluttered! If you've ever attempted/hoped for/accomplished/waited for Jeeves to show up to make this happen in your home, I'd love to hear from you.

*Depending on what your definition of "decluttered" is. Here's the kitchen table right now. Go ahead; judge away.