I know, I know… 16 months.
But I also *know* me. I know that I will hang on to as much as possible with all my might unless I discipline myself to purge the lifetime of STUFF we’ve collected. We simply can’t afford to bring it all. Plus, it might be kind of nice to go over with some money and get the thrill of walking into Ikea and outfitting our new house with new things.
Of course that brings up the topic of Sentimental Value.
There are things that we keep not because they are valuable in the monetary sense, rather in the “but the kids made that” or “but it was my Nana’s” sense. I’m finding that all the moves we’ve made till now have begun with a purge. But in reality, we never purged much. It was too easy to hold on, to bring along, to just plain attach ourselves to. Things we don’t really need. Like some decorative plates picked up at a yard sale that have cute phrases on them, or that dollar store candle holder (or maybe even the expensive PartyLite candle holder) that is just pretty. Useless. No value in the sense that matters. Yet here it is, after I-can’t-tell-you-how-many moves in the 20 years my Hunny and I have been married.
Time to let go.
And to start things off, I donated three LARGE (think Walmart reusable size) bags. There were at least (probably more) three dozen books I’d been holding onto in those bags. And this morning at church as I took them out of the car, I admit, there was a moment of hesitation. A little *gulp*. But then I handed them off… and the weight (literally AND figuratively) that lifted was noticeable.
It also helped me feel a little closer to that 16 month date.
Of course there are still probably six billion more books in the house, but baby steps. I’ll get there… slowly but surely I will purge this house and in the end all we’ll be taking is the things that have lasting and sentimental value.
A wooden carving of the word “FAMILY” that the kids made me for Christmas.
A decorative wooden plate that my oldest son made me at summer camp years ago with the Fruit of the Spirit on it.
A chicken whisk my friend Min gave me when she travelled to see me when our Littles were very little indeed.
The little, special, could never replace things.
What precious things could you not bear to part with if you were moving to a new country?