My closet is devouring me
Once upon a time, there was a young couple in love. They dreamed big dreams together and planned big plans and one day, they got married. They got lots of new stuff and brought all their new stuff to their 200 year old apartment and set up house. But life changes and a baby came along and there was new stuff to register for and borrow and buy. They rearranged their apartment with no closets and few cabinets to accommodate their new 7 pound guest and her entourage of equipment. But life changes and a second baby came along and there was new stuff to borrow and buy. They looked around and decided it was time for a house. The lovely couple bought an itty bitty house on a small lot on a quiet little street and moved all their stuff in. They stretched out and sighed with contentment because the space was just right--not too big, not too small, and plenty of storage for all the stuff they didn't need right now but might some day use. They got to work ripping out and building up and replacing and refinishing and shining and painting. They made that dumpy little house a homey little nest for their growing brood that soon equaled three. And then....
"Geez this house is too small. What are we gonna do when the kids get bigger? We can't walk in it as it is. We just duck and shuffle."
"I feel so claustrophobic! This space is closing in on me! That's it, we need a bigger house."
"Where did all this junk come from? Who brought this in here? Stop bringing stuff home. It's so cluttered!"
"Ugh, I have nothing to wear," staring at overflowing closet. "I'm going shopping."
"Remember that sweater I used to love? I forgot about it. Where do you think it went? I bet it's in the basement in that pile next to the bigger pile by those boxes. I'll just get a new one. It's probably out of style by now, anyway."
"I can't even walk down here!" (me shouting upstairs from basement) "All I want is a roll of TP from the storage shelves and I have to hurdle one laundry basket, one tub of kids' clothes, and a fake tree just to get to it. I'm lucky I didn't kill myself!"
"I think we need a new clothes dryer, air purifier, printer, electric mixer, camera lens, bike, organizational system..."
"You need a new coat. Eeew, look at your shoes! And when's the last time you bought some new pants. This isn't high school! You're a professional."
My mom: "Sara, your basement looks like a consignment shop." (It's true, we could clothe a small nation of children with what's down there.)
"Call the babysitter. We have got to clean this basement, attic, closet, cabinet, garage now. It's a disgrace in here."
After years of moaning about our space (a finite and fixed thing), I'm done. Selling our house doesn't make sense right now. We only have one choice. We keep making space for more mess (an infinite and unfixed thing), or we take the mess out of the space. I'm ready for the latter. Because folks, the former just ain't working for me. It's not possible. What's more, it's a waste of time when all we do is keep adding more.
Tomorrow begins Lent--a season of reflection and prayer and preparation. And I need some space to do that in. Last week I mentioned that we'd be making some changes at our house in the next month or so, becoming more intentional about our consumer habits, the way we spend our time, our money, our selves. Because the choices we make about how we spend our time and money matter. And we can spend our time and resources consuming or we can spend it on something better. Jen Hatmaker writes in her book 7:
It is no accident that despite the fact that bazillions of dollars are spent telling us we are just consumers, and that's all the story we could ever need, people by the thousands and sometimes even millions are frustrated and looking for a better story. And it is here. Is it any wonder, if you live your life like a baby bird with your mouth open that what gets dropped into it every time is a worm? People will attempt to reshape your worm and convince you that it is extra yummy this time, but it is still a worm. And the story of consumers is still boring.
If you are going to get better than that, we're going to have to participate, and go out and seek new sources and resources and options, we're going to have to replace much of our consumption with rituals of non-consumption. We're going to have to write a good and compelling story with our lives. The good news is that it is a lot more fun to be a citizen than a consumer, and rituals of non-consumption are just as satisfying as retail therapy. The good news is that there are better stories out there for the claiming and the living, and events are conspiring to keep our times interesting. The good news is that we can do better than worms.(177)
That's our goal this month. To clear out the clutter so we can see our purpose more clearly. We have big plans for the clutter, but we have even bigger plans for our family: to write a good and compelling story with our lives. We're looking for examples of what that means, keeping our eyes open for stories that inspire us to do just that.
The story of mass consumption isn't teaching our kids what it means to serve, to give, to lay down self for the sake of one's neighbor. It's just teaching them to want more. And the story of consumers is boring because it always ends the same way--with things instead of people.
When my sisters and I were little there was a song we used to sing when we really wanted to irritate each other (Remember Lamb Chop on PBS?):
This is the song that never ends. Yes it goes on and on, my friend.
Some people started singing it not knowing what it was,
And they'll continue singing it forever just because
This it the song that never ends...
And so it goes. On and on and on. That's the story of consumerism. It's not the story we want to tell. Time to revise. Stay tuned.
If you have your own stories to tell, we'd love to hear them. Go ahead, leave a comment. You know you want to share. What good and compelling stories are you writing with your families? your communities? If you've never left a comment, now is the perfect time.
"Geez this house is too small. What are we gonna do when the kids get bigger? We can't walk in it as it is. We just duck and shuffle."
"I feel so claustrophobic! This space is closing in on me! That's it, we need a bigger house."
"Where did all this junk come from? Who brought this in here? Stop bringing stuff home. It's so cluttered!"
"Ugh, I have nothing to wear," staring at overflowing closet. "I'm going shopping."
"Remember that sweater I used to love? I forgot about it. Where do you think it went? I bet it's in the basement in that pile next to the bigger pile by those boxes. I'll just get a new one. It's probably out of style by now, anyway."
"I can't even walk down here!" (me shouting upstairs from basement) "All I want is a roll of TP from the storage shelves and I have to hurdle one laundry basket, one tub of kids' clothes, and a fake tree just to get to it. I'm lucky I didn't kill myself!"
"I think we need a new clothes dryer, air purifier, printer, electric mixer, camera lens, bike, organizational system..."
"You need a new coat. Eeew, look at your shoes! And when's the last time you bought some new pants. This isn't high school! You're a professional."
My mom: "Sara, your basement looks like a consignment shop." (It's true, we could clothe a small nation of children with what's down there.)
"Call the babysitter. We have got to clean this basement, attic, closet, cabinet, garage now. It's a disgrace in here."
After years of moaning about our space (a finite and fixed thing), I'm done. Selling our house doesn't make sense right now. We only have one choice. We keep making space for more mess (an infinite and unfixed thing), or we take the mess out of the space. I'm ready for the latter. Because folks, the former just ain't working for me. It's not possible. What's more, it's a waste of time when all we do is keep adding more.
Tomorrow begins Lent--a season of reflection and prayer and preparation. And I need some space to do that in. Last week I mentioned that we'd be making some changes at our house in the next month or so, becoming more intentional about our consumer habits, the way we spend our time, our money, our selves. Because the choices we make about how we spend our time and money matter. And we can spend our time and resources consuming or we can spend it on something better. Jen Hatmaker writes in her book 7:
It is no accident that despite the fact that bazillions of dollars are spent telling us we are just consumers, and that's all the story we could ever need, people by the thousands and sometimes even millions are frustrated and looking for a better story. And it is here. Is it any wonder, if you live your life like a baby bird with your mouth open that what gets dropped into it every time is a worm? People will attempt to reshape your worm and convince you that it is extra yummy this time, but it is still a worm. And the story of consumers is still boring.
If you are going to get better than that, we're going to have to participate, and go out and seek new sources and resources and options, we're going to have to replace much of our consumption with rituals of non-consumption. We're going to have to write a good and compelling story with our lives. The good news is that it is a lot more fun to be a citizen than a consumer, and rituals of non-consumption are just as satisfying as retail therapy. The good news is that there are better stories out there for the claiming and the living, and events are conspiring to keep our times interesting. The good news is that we can do better than worms.(177)
That's our goal this month. To clear out the clutter so we can see our purpose more clearly. We have big plans for the clutter, but we have even bigger plans for our family: to write a good and compelling story with our lives. We're looking for examples of what that means, keeping our eyes open for stories that inspire us to do just that.
The story of mass consumption isn't teaching our kids what it means to serve, to give, to lay down self for the sake of one's neighbor. It's just teaching them to want more. And the story of consumers is boring because it always ends the same way--with things instead of people.
When my sisters and I were little there was a song we used to sing when we really wanted to irritate each other (Remember Lamb Chop on PBS?):
This is the song that never ends. Yes it goes on and on, my friend.
Some people started singing it not knowing what it was,
And they'll continue singing it forever just because
This it the song that never ends...
And so it goes. On and on and on. That's the story of consumerism. It's not the story we want to tell. Time to revise. Stay tuned.
If you have your own stories to tell, we'd love to hear them. Go ahead, leave a comment. You know you want to share. What good and compelling stories are you writing with your families? your communities? If you've never left a comment, now is the perfect time.
aww Lamb Chop!
ReplyDeleteThat song is a silly song but SO fitting. I love the part "Some people started singing it not knowing what it was, and they'll continue singing it forever JUST BECAUSE." Who started these habits and did they really know what it would do to our population? To the generations to follow? There is no noble reason for the behaviors our society has become so accustomed to and most people will not stop to ask themselves "Why am I making these decisions?" or "What impact do my decisions have on the rest of the world?" We all follow along to the same tune because it's what the person before us or next to us is singing. And our reasoning? Just because.
ReplyDeleteRidiculous as the song is, the nuances didn't escape me either, Kait. Suffice it to say, this is a song I myself have been singing for a long time. Point the first finger at me, which is why...we're working on a different one. :)
ReplyDeleteI thought it was from Barney!
ReplyDeleteI listened to a Lenten sermon and was reminded on Ash Wednesday that ASHES are what is left of all our STUFF, a few hundred years from now (or maybe sooner). So why would I look in my clothes-closets or at piles of precious trinkets and say "Hey, take a look at my cool pile of ashes?"
ReplyDeleteASHES are not the story I want to tell or what I want to write with my family. And yet it's the clay of people's lives that the Potter is willing to mold into something beautiful and useful. Alleluia!