The Shed, Part 1

At the beginning of summer I sat with a beautiful group of women where we were each asked what one of our goals was for the summer. I don’t know about you, but quickly I ran through in my mind a zillion goals, what I felt comfortable sharing, and what I might actually accomplish.  Immediately, I thought of the ‘shed project’.  Now mind you, this is no ordinary project. At least not for me.  This is a shed whose contents embody and span decades.  Literally. My childhood toys, memorabilia from my children, AND, the ‘inheritance’. Being a significant (and sometimes, sole) recipient, sorter, and keeper of the remains of others in my family.  We are not talking ‘remains’ as in cremation, nevertheless, ‘leftovers’ from people who no longer walk this planet.  Dad.  Mom.  Sister.  Grandma.  How did I get this job?  And what in the heck do I do with all this stuff? In the box I sorted yesterday were bits and pieces of toys from my young childhood.  I was instantly taken back –I could remember playing with these things - even down to the little doll-house table I hand made from a block of Styrofoam and a swatch of fabric.  It felt like it opened to me memories long forgotten.  The good with the not-so-good.  It was then I realized I was at an intersection, if you will where a number of paths have converged.  One, bringing me into deeper levels of release…letting go of things of the past that were out of the realm of my control…things that I COULDN’T then and CAN’T now change.  What felt the most significant, though, was how most of us have ‘sheds’ of ‘stuff’.  If they aren’t an actual structure, perhaps they are compartments of our lives that we close off with walls and doors.  We have every good intention of getting back to that ‘project’ at some point.  Let’s face it.  It can be painful, confusing, overwhelming.  If I want to be truthful, it takes a willingness to look honestly into hidden places.  Maybe dark corners.  Places that definitely need a light to shine so the contents can be revealed.  I resolve, once again, to go there.  I realize that this isn’t completely foreign territory…It is just an opportunity to go deeper, release a little more, be healed in new ways.  I can do this.  Armed with the Light, I will forge ahead…

It Matters

It matters. It.Matters. IT.MATTERS.  When He spoke that to me, I thought that while what I was planning was fun, it was perhaps inconsequential. After all, a silly, spur-of-the-moment party couldn't matter all that much.  Or could it?  Thoughts rolled through my mind of years of little things.  Little things I had done for others, as well as things that had been done for me and my family.  Then the reminder of how He has been showing me that so often in the past I drew such a distinct line between the ‘sacred’ and the ‘secular’, between doing things that I deemed ‘spiritual’ or ‘worthwhile’, and then ‘all the rest of life’ and ‘duty’.  Now I’m beginning to wonder if there really is a dividing ‘line’ after all.  Such a silly gladness came over me.  In my mind I was planning the party and He was gonna be there.  After all, isn't He everywhere with me?  Of course He is.  Then I thought of my friends, others just like me, facing a similar struggle.  Wondering, what matters?  Is it only the ‘churchy’ things I do? The answer was so clear.  It all matters.  Having coffee with a dear friend.  Homeschooling.  Playing Legos. Teaching a Bible Study. Smiling at a stranger.  Holding open a door.  Slipping a few bucks to someone who needs it more than you. Enjoying creation. Reading the Bible. Reading the comics. Reading classic literature. Grocery shopping. Back-to-school shopping. Visiting a neighbor. Making a meal for a family. Going to the movies. Reading the same book to a 2 year old for the 1000^th time.  Doing laundry.  Bathing the kids.  Flea-dipping the dog. Writing a note of encouragement.  Swimming at the river with friends. Serving in the church nursery.   Driving a friend to the airport. Sipping tea as the sun rises. It all matters. Such a tremendous relief washes over me as I soak in the truth.  I no longer have to strive to accomplish something of importance.  My life has meaning because He lives in me.  I allow Him to flow out of everything I do, whether I am alone or with others. I get to live my life in big and small ways that says He is real, He is good, He lives, and above all else, He loves. So, I will get back to the preparations for my Shark Week party with all the enthusiasm of a hyper, sugar-laden 3 year old, knowing that this too matters.  While I still have another breath I get to love the people around me and make an impact. Because it really does matter.