Like many of you, I collected random paraphernalia during my elementary years. Child development experts tell us that this ‘gathering and sorting’ stage is a healthy indicator of our active imaginations and natural bent toward classifying objects. My two oldest are currently in this phase and the organizer in me wants to chuck all of their [perceived] rubbish out the window.
Between the stack of games, eleventy billion LEGOS, wall art, and cringe worthy craft projects circa 2009, I want to BURN ALL THE THINGS but I won’t--mostly because of town fire codes (and LEGOS have high resale value) but also because I remember how important collectables were to me when I was their age. Like a doomsday prepper, I stockpiled baby dolls, M.A.S.H notes from friends, stuffed animals, books, and random knick-knacks. I don’t know how my parents managed this tomfoolery with 5 kids but I suspect prayer had something to do with it. Also, Valium.
Eventually, I outgrew this phase and slowly became a tosser. If an item was neither useful nor sentimental, I gave it away or threw it in the trash. Out went the trinkets, trophies, and tiny figurines that graced any flat surface in my bedroom. Let’s just say dusting became a whole lot easier.
By the time I had my driver’s license, I was Master of the Cleaning Spree, tossing former treasures like it was my job. In one of my purging frenzies however, I nonchalantly threw away my beloved teddy bear, Night Night. Rumor has it when I was just a wee tot, I waddled out to the clothesline to hold Night Night’s paw while he hung out to dry. We were inseparable; I couldn’t sleep without his soft, pink and grey body snuggled next to mine. So when my mom discovered Night Night in the trash, she pulled his weathered body from beneath the food waste and used tissues, laundered him, and without my knowledge, quietly tucked him away in our cedar chest. In her wisdom, Mom knew I would regret tossing that well-loved bear. She was right. Night Night has been a delightful character in my history that I now get to share with my kids.
Whether literal or metaphorical, there are some things we’re meant to keep and some things we’re meant to set free. As the daffodils poke through the thawing earth, may we pause to consider what we’re holding on to and what we can let go of in this new season.
Here are two mementos I’ve carried that I’m learning to release:
False guilt: As a missionary kid practically born into a pew, I heard the whispers of this sneaky nemesis before I was ten. It hitched a ride inside my backpack and stayed there for years, taunting me with the lie that my worth depended on my ability to meet the demands of others. False guilt told me my life existed to please people, especially church people. As I grew, so did my resentment for saying ‘yes’ to opportunities not meant for me while I ignored my spiritual, mental, emotional, and physical health.
This was not the good kind of guilt that leads to confession of sin and the offer of forgiveness. Instead, false guilt twisted me into a twentysomething I no longer recognized because for so many years I’d agreed to do and be certain things just to appease ‘good’ people. After nearly three decades of hauling around those heavy demands, I struggled to articulate my own needs, dreams, and skills. As a recovering people pleaser, I’m still learning to separate Jesus from dysfunctional ministries and learning to say ‘no’ without the weight of false guilt.
Fear: This is not the type of fear that sees danger and takes the necessary precautions or that wisely prepares for likely scenarios. This is the paralyzing type that told me to avoid new endeavors where I might fail and new friendships where I might be rejected. Instead of taking steps of faith that often lead to new opportunities, growth, and yes, even public criticism, I often let fear bully me into choosing a safer route that gives me the illusion of control. As a lifelong skeptic, I will always have a relationship with fear, but I’m learning to be intentional about unpacking it, examining it, and refusing to let it dictate my decisions.
False guilt and fear are heavy momentos I’ve carried for far too long. Whenever I moved to a new place, I boxed them up, loaded them into the truck, and hauled them along to the next adventure. What a waste of precious time and energy. As we welcome this season of ‘spring cleaning,’ I want to share two specific steps we can take to lighten our loads:
Claim what is true. Studying Bible passages related to whatever we’re carrying is a great start. In addition, I find it helpful to listen to hopeful music, read books that inspire and/or challenge me. When I’m immersed in what is true, I’m better able to recognize and reject the lies of false guilt and crippling fear, and I’m more equipped to care for others from a place of authenticity, rather than duty and resentment.
Connect with your people. When my load begins to feel heavy, I have a tiny circle of friends who know my tendencies and who I trust to point me to the truth. They are committed to remind me to focus on the specific work God has given me to do and to ‘spur me on toward love and good deeds.’
For those of us traveling this life with Jesus, may we take time in this new season to consider the contents of our lives, may we hold the Night Night meant just for us, and may we begin to let go of the heavy loads that were never ours to carry.
ABOUT THE BLOGGER
In the midst of writing and maintaining the trifecta of marriage, home and community, Katie is grateful for strong coffee, belly laughs, good books, and loyal friends. She and her husband of 17 years -- her co-warrior and confidant -- have four children. Two came to them through adoption and one has the gift of Down syndrome.