June 12, 2006 @ 2:13 pm | Filed under: Family

The sign is up now.

Our house is officially on the market. I’m not real sure how I feel about it right now. It’s definitely time, but in the midst of all the cleaning out of closets, drawers, and rooms I’ve come across so many things that have reminded me of just how many great times we’ve had in this house.

Nate and Jorge have gone from being boys to young men, Carter and Kendall have brought the sounds of toddler laughter back into the house, and our living room has been the hub of many great conversations and game nights with special friends.

As I was going through yet another closet this morning I couldn’t help but relate the "de-cluttering" process to what my soul must go through from time to time. Those who know me well know that I can’t stand clutter and - for the most part - my house appears well organized and proper.

Until you open a closet door.

And then, baby, you’d better either jump back fast or be wearing full-body armor ’cause there’s just no telling what might jump out at you. I’d like to say that is because we have much more stuff than we have room for here, and that would be true. But it would also be true to say that, for me, out of sight is pretty much out of mind.

Until I’m the one to open the closet door.

Then I see the situation with sudden clarity. I begin to pull out boxes of papers that I no longer need, but can’t bear to part with. I’ll sort through folders, clothes, magazines - forcing myself to make crucial, spur-of-the-moment decisions. It’s painful, but the "maybe" stack begins to dwindle and the "for sure keep" stack is practically non-existent. Either it’s in use now or I’m prepared to part with it.

How often do I allow my soul to become cluttered and disorganized? It’s not something I set out to do, not any more than I long for a cluttered home closet. But it becomes so easy to push thoughts and emotions into the dark corners, deciding to wait for another day to deal with them. Days and even months go by and, instead of digging them out and dealing with them, I instead pack new ones in on top.

It’s not until I unsuspectingly open that proverbial door and get bonked on the head that I see the situation with sudden clarity. I begin to pull out baggage that I no longer need, but can’t bear to part with. I’ll sort through feelings, prayers, emotions - forcing myself to make crucial, spur-of-the-moment decisions.

While my real closet is filtered through a trash bag, my soul closet is filtered through prayer. It has the potential to be painful, but oh! - what liberation when my soul closet is once again clean and clutter-free. Once everything is back in place, I’m left with only the good.

Wonderful thoughts, intoxicating memories, pleasurable emotions.

There’s nothing quite like that kind of house cleaning, is there?