Today, I gathered with some teens, young adults and a couple other adults for our weekly gathering at Wherry for our summer outreach called Love, Sweat and Tears. I knew the Bible passage for our morning devotion was to come from Matthew 5:13-15--salt and light.
Alan Smith, one of our other leaders, alerted me that Bruce Coble (we love Bruce!) had several different jobs we could work on, but the one he would really like to tackle (if we were up to the challenge) was to clean out an apartment that had been abandoned for about a week. "Up for the challenge?" The gauntlet had been thrown. We would accept the challenge. I knew that's what we were supposed to do--where we were supposed to be.
Bruce gathered with us after prayer to lay out the conditions we'd be headed into. He told us that the family had been living in real despair and darkness and abuse. He encouraged us to pray again before we went to work.
The team was dismissed to gather supplies and walk to the home. I explained to the kids a little about what we might be in for. Michael, the property manager at Wherry, told us a little more and encouraged us to go in as warriors, not afraid of spiritual darkness. We did.
We prayed. We prayed for our hearts and minds to be protected. We prayed for the family that had just moved out, who had been unable to receive the blessings of being the Wherry community. We prayed that God would set them on a new path. We prayed for this home to be reclaimed as a place of blessing. We prayed for the cycles of poverty and .abuse and hopelessness to be broken.
None of that prepared us for what we would see and smell. Later in the day, we were saying what we always say, "Why didn't we take 'before' pictures?" But today, I thought no. I would never want the new family to see what this was. Molly Watkins said it well, "We don't want that image frozen in time." So we only took pictures of the apartment after three truck loads of garbage and debris had been removed, the carpet had been pulled up, and the windows cleared .
To say that the old windows at Wherry aren't energy efficient is a gross understatement. To combat this, the family had filled the windows with styrofoam sheets and some sort of insulating foam There was little to no light in the bedrooms at all. This added to the despair. So we pulled down the dust-caked, soiled curtains, disposed of the broken and sad mini-blinds and cut away the stryofoam insulation. We let the light in.
The team who worked outside scooped up the rankest garbage I've ever seen and smelled. Really the only thing missing was human waste. They pulled unimaginable amounts of garbage from the hedges--a couch and a dirt bike were hiding in there. They trimmed and tamed the wild backyard. It was shocking the crazy amount of work those kids did out there.
The team inside bagged up vile garbage. Some too vile to talk about here. Some things I wish your kids hadn't seen. Things no child should see. And this family was living here just a week ago. In this stuff, this stench, this mess. Just a week ago. Oh, Jesus! My heart cries.
We salvaged some clothes that family had bagged up and some expensive sports equipment just in case they show up in the next week to claim them. Hopefully the cockroaches will have scurried from the bags if the family comes for them.
We been given a rare opportunity this year. A few folks (ministry teams from other churches) will work on the apartment on other days, but by and large the rest of our Wednesdays this summer will be spent loving on this apartment. We don't always get to see a project to completion. We're often just a step in the process. We prime the walls. Another team paints. We scrape the metal cabinets. Another teams finishes them. We scrape up the old tiling from the 50s and another team lays new flooring. It's a process. I'm looking forward to seeing our teens spend some extended time in this one home. Hopefully by the end of the summer, it will be ready for a new family to move in.
So we'll keep being salt and light at this one little corner of Wherry. Next week we'll scrub and clean and scrape another layer of grime away, getting ready for the next phase. And slowly, but surely, this house will become a home!
It's a good summer for Love, Sweat and Tears!
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Monday, January 2, 2012
2011 in the Rear View
Here are just a few highlights of 2011.
December
Several culinary milestones were met. I cooked my first-ever Christmas Day dinner. Yes, I realize that I've been married for eons, but we've never, ever been home all day on Christmas Day, so it was my first. The best thing was we got to share it with our great friends, the Clements! I also managed to prepare my first prime rib roast for Christmas Eve, (I'll be doing that again as soon as it's on sale.) and made perhaps the second worst dish of my married life--since the spinach lasagna fiasco of 1985. Yeah, it was bad! It's the dish that shall not be named. Birthday month for Andrew. We repaired the Camry for him for his birthday. I think he got the best end of that deal!
November
Daniel and Bethany were married on Saturday, Nov. 19, just a mere 14 weeks after he proposed to her in Seattle, Washington, on a hot air balloon ride and a critical 8 weeks after returning home from the extended stay in Seattle. Their day was gorgeous and suited them uniquely. I think I was kept sane in November by the commitment to log into facebook with a daily status update of what I was thankful for. That was a great exercise for me. Sometimes, it was petty. Sometimes significant. Always thankful.
October-September
September and October can best be characterized as a blur of wedding planning, teaching, and dealing with random breakouts of hives along with my normal life of being a wife and mom. I don't remember much else about these hectic days except that Daniel and Andrew came home from Seattle. Bethany moved back from Seattle. Andrew moved out of our home to live with the Woerners and spread his wings a bit. Susanna started on her journey of becoming the only child at home. Music directing/conducting for Annie was a highlight of September! Oh, and with no pomp or circumstance, Daniel's diploma from MTSU arrived in the mail. Woot! I am the mom of a college graduate.
August
August was filled with final rehearsals for Annie. I've determined that I am just a good enough actor to play the conductor in Annie. I think I strained a muscle in my hand practicing conducting, and I've never spent so much time trying to master just a few bars of music. Michael is a patient, but picky teacher. His criticisms and tips made me much better at my job. Additionally, I added two new schools to my teaching rotation. It was a lot and maybe too much too soon especially with the upcoming wedding, but I didn't know about that when I took the jobs. Daniel and Bethany got engaged! The boys moved to Seattle for a short time--I miss them!
July and June
We vacationed in Virginia with Michael's family--mom, dad, sister, her husband, her three kids and their spouse and grandson, along with my kids, and Aunt Edith. It was wonderfully relaxing. Hope we get to do that again in a couple of years. Daniel finished up his coursework for school in Chester just in the nick of time. July is birthday month for Daniel. Susanna became a licensed driver. Daniel, Andrew and Susanna went to Mexico on a missions trip. We all volunteered at Wherry Housing over the summer.
May
Andrew graduated from high school, but didn't really want a party or celebration. Looking back that was probably a mistake. He's planning to take a year off before going to college. Hope it's no longer than that. Birthday month for Michael. Two high school graduates, one to go. There is a light at the end of my homeschooling journey.
April
I played the part of M'Lynn in Lamplighter's Theatre Company's production of Steel Magnolias. The cast was delightful and the role was quite cathartic for me. It's a role I'd always wanted to play, so I guess I can mark that off my imaginary bucket list. April 15 marked the first anniversary of my mom's death. We tried to get my dad to visit us during that time, but
he wanted to stay home. Mistake. Maybe next year.
January-February-March
We all readjusted to having Daniel back in the house after his semester in England. Scholl and work and life moves at a face pace for the Fraziers. Bethany returned from her trip to India, then decided to move to Seattle for a season. At the end of January, following Michael's lead, I started using MyFitnessPal and began my journey toward reshaping my body. Led a class on Wednesday nights of intercessory prayer for the nations. Wow! Just wow on how that can change and rock your world.
So in the Rear View 2011 was a lot about loss and gain. Fewer children live in my home, but I gained daughter perfectly matched to my son. I lost control of situations and gained renewed faith again and again. I've lost students, but gained graduates. I gained experience and lost inhibitions. I lost pounds (40-ish so far) and gained mobility and energy.
Here's to reflection and review. Here's to favored days to come and new mercy and grace each day!
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Goes by in a Blink
A blink and a blur--that's how I'd describe this past year. The other night as the family gathered around the table we began to talk about the milestones of the year. Here are a few of our highlights:
My mom was diagnosed with breast cancer in January and in April passed away.
Michael's dad survived the Haitian earthquake and has made several trips back to help with building and transition.
Parker DuBose was born in January--our neice's son.
Susanna got her driving permit.
Daniel and Susanna went to Mexico on a mission's trip.
Andrew went on a six-week vacation to Madrid.
The boys took an eventful road trip to Chicago with four other friends. (That trip deserves its own blog.)
Andrew started college classes during his senior year.
Daniel moved to Chester, England to complete a semester abroad at the University of Chester with MTSU. (Back home now to finish up his senior year.)
Weeks of physical therapy to try to get me pain-free and restore full use of my knees.
Bethany went to India on Dec. 14 and is still there. (returning soon!)
We watched young families have babies, watched God start new families at several weddings and attended more funerals than probably ever before in one year.
I won the championship in our fantasy football league.
And Michael is still the most incredible man I've ever met, and I love him with every ounce of my being.
Not to mention the daily faithfulness of God in all things--big and small--along the way.
Indeed, it was a blink and a blur. What a journey!
My mom was diagnosed with breast cancer in January and in April passed away.
Michael's dad survived the Haitian earthquake and has made several trips back to help with building and transition.
Parker DuBose was born in January--our neice's son.
Susanna got her driving permit.
Daniel and Susanna went to Mexico on a mission's trip.
Andrew went on a six-week vacation to Madrid.
The boys took an eventful road trip to Chicago with four other friends. (That trip deserves its own blog.)
Andrew started college classes during his senior year.
Daniel moved to Chester, England to complete a semester abroad at the University of Chester with MTSU. (Back home now to finish up his senior year.)
Weeks of physical therapy to try to get me pain-free and restore full use of my knees.
Bethany went to India on Dec. 14 and is still there. (returning soon!)
We watched young families have babies, watched God start new families at several weddings and attended more funerals than probably ever before in one year.
I won the championship in our fantasy football league.
And Michael is still the most incredible man I've ever met, and I love him with every ounce of my being.
Not to mention the daily faithfulness of God in all things--big and small--along the way.
Indeed, it was a blink and a blur. What a journey!
Monday, May 17, 2010
Fact Checker
There's no easy way to address this so I'm just going to jump right in there.
I have a serious problem. I'm checking out my facebook and see that one of my friends has posted a video of a penguin head slapping another penguin so that the penuin falls and ends up in the icy water. And I laugh. That's not my problem. Everyone loves a bit of slapstick.
This is my problem. As I watched it again, I began to wonder if it was a real video or if it was fake. That in itself isn't a problem. I sure many people probably wondered the same thing.
Here's my problem, where I seem to deviate from the norm. I spent the next few minutes (I refuse to reveal just how many minutes in order to save some of my dignity) searching the internet for evidence of the validity of the video. I googled and regoogled, and I snoped and searched until I was fairly satisfied that it was indeed a doctored video. Awe. That felt good.
Then I watched it again--the original video clip. This time I focused on the movement of the penguin's flipper. The flipper seemed to bend at an odd angle that didn't quite seem natural, and then I found myself on a zoocam with live feed into the penguin habitat to see if the flipper movement of the penguin on the video could possibly be natural.
Oh, yes. I definitely have a problem.
I have a serious problem. I'm checking out my facebook and see that one of my friends has posted a video of a penguin head slapping another penguin so that the penuin falls and ends up in the icy water. And I laugh. That's not my problem. Everyone loves a bit of slapstick.
This is my problem. As I watched it again, I began to wonder if it was a real video or if it was fake. That in itself isn't a problem. I sure many people probably wondered the same thing.
Here's my problem, where I seem to deviate from the norm. I spent the next few minutes (I refuse to reveal just how many minutes in order to save some of my dignity) searching the internet for evidence of the validity of the video. I googled and regoogled, and I snoped and searched until I was fairly satisfied that it was indeed a doctored video. Awe. That felt good.
Then I watched it again--the original video clip. This time I focused on the movement of the penguin's flipper. The flipper seemed to bend at an odd angle that didn't quite seem natural, and then I found myself on a zoocam with live feed into the penguin habitat to see if the flipper movement of the penguin on the video could possibly be natural.
Oh, yes. I definitely have a problem.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
My Mom
Following are the general thoughts and comments I delivered at my mom's funeral on April 18. They are most likely not in the order I gave them that day or even exactly what I said that day.
Thank you for joining our family today to celebrate the life of my mom, Carolyn Mathis.
I want to say a special "Thank you" to my sisters for the countless hours that they put into caring for my mom, for the nights they spent away from their families. My mom taught them well.
My comments today are loosely entitled "Making Memories." This phrase is one of my mom's favorite phrases. She employed it often during our childhood, many times when what was happening was unpleasant. She would pipe up, "We're making memories." She used it often with me as she tried to do something with my curly hair. As you can she her attempts to tame it failed.
Many of you know my mom in many different capacities. You know her as a friend, a co-worker, a Sunday school teacher, church member. I want to tell you a few things about my mom that you may not know.
In our family she was the best back scratcher. She was a patient stick-shift teacher. According to her local grandchildren she was a talking phone book with better and more accurate information than "Ask Jeeves." She was a champion giblet gravy maker. She was the worst voice mail message leaver.
A couple of years ago on Easter Sunday, mom left me a message. It went something like this (read in slow, sombre monotone): "Rhonda, Michael, Daniel, Andrew, Susanna, This is Grandma Carolyn. I just called to say Happy Easter." When the message started I just knew someone had die because of the tone of her voice.
Papa Farley called her Cat and after his death, my sister, Theresa kept the nickname alive. Cat is an ironic nickname for my mom because she had an almost unhealthy fear of cats. I think that was a result of her brother, Ronnie, tossing a cat onto her head.
She wasn't a gourmet cook, but her stewed potatoes, fried okra and fried squash couldn't be beat.
To her grandchildren she was Grandma Carolyn, and sometimes Graham Cracker.
Twenty years ago, she began setting aside a portion of her vacation time each year to keep my kids during the summer. I was the envy of all of my friends. I thought that was what all grandmas did.
When our family vacationed at Lake Lure my mom with have evening lessons with the kids complete with activity pages, prizes and a dollar for someone to win.
I am convinced that Black Friday is a successful retail event solely based on the efforts of my mom. She started the tradition in our family of getting up before 4 a.m. to begin our shopping. It was breakfast at the Waffle House with deer hunters, shop, snack shop, shop, lunch, shop, shop and a stop by Krispy Kreme on the way home.
It really is a miracle that my sisters and I didn't think we had a long lost relative named "Clarance." Every time we shopped my mom said, "Look for the clarance." (Clearance.)
My mom wasn't a seamstress. She could sew on a button, but I doubt she could sew a straigth seam, but she could spot shotty workmanship in a garmet a mile away. I can't recall how many times she made us put down something we wanted to buy because the seams weren't straight or the cut wasn't right or the stripes didn't match.
If there was an award for the most words ever read in the Gaffney Ledger, I think my mom would win. In fact, according to my dad, this was probably one of the most puzzling things about my mom. If she went out of town, someone saved all the Ledgers for her while she was gone. Upon her return she would spent hours reading them all.
The video showed my mom fishing. I'm not so sure she liked fishing all that much, but she did like to reel them in. Most of all she liked spending time on the pontoon with daddy. In fact that is probably the best marital advice my mom ever gave me--spending the time with her husband, being there with him.
You probably didn't know that for almost two years my mom ran a roadside breakfast stand. Every morning my mom would meet her great-granddaughter, Alyssa, at the end of her driveway with a breakfast to go--a granola bar, egg sandwich, piece of pizza--all delivered with love. Alyssa said after she started eating breakfast at school, Grandma Carolyn and Papa Jerry would sit on the porch and wave to her as she went up the road to school.
She was a pen pal. When her granddaughter Heidi moved away from home to go to Wofford, my mom started a once a week letter campaign to Heidi. Until just a few weeks ago, she wrote Heidi one letter a week for seven years. The letter were clippings or just bits of news, but she didn't want Heidi's mailbox to go week without something in it.
My mom was a hero. One afternoon years ago, we were driving down Colonial Avenue. Smoke was coming from the eaves of a house. My mom stopped the car and went to the door. No one came to the door, but the door was open. My mom went in and came out with a baby that was crying in its crib. The mom and stepped next door to a neighbors house and the kitchen had caught on fire.
My mom married into a singing family, but never thought of herself as a singer. If the person beside her sang soprano, that's what she sang. If she sat in the alto section, she sang alto. I took get delight as a teenager by standing beside her in choir and jumping around to different parts. It would drive her crazy. But my mom was a faithful choir member, and she learned to sing.
When my mom went to the hospital in January, I drove down for a few days to stay with her. Everyone who came to her room got a "Have a blessed day" as they went out.
Our mom poured herself out for her family, and we are so full and so rich and so blessed because of it. So many people have said over the past few days, "Carolyn was a special lady" or "She was such a good person." And she was, but the reason these statements can be made about my mom is because she allowed Jesus to be big in her.
When my dad had to choose a scripture for the prayer card, he went to my mom's Bible and looked through it. He came back with Psalm 100: "Make a joyful noise unto the Lord...."
Mrs. Allison my mom's neighbor of 45 years stopped by the week and one of the things she said was, "Please don't let those joyful noises on that porch stop."
You see, I think for my mom spending time with her family, loving on them, pouring out for them, was one of the ways she worshipped the Lord.
(There were many things I forgot to say that day, and many things that these thoughts prompted us to think about. I'm sure there will be more to come.)
Thank you for joining our family today to celebrate the life of my mom, Carolyn Mathis.
I want to say a special "Thank you" to my sisters for the countless hours that they put into caring for my mom, for the nights they spent away from their families. My mom taught them well.
My comments today are loosely entitled "Making Memories." This phrase is one of my mom's favorite phrases. She employed it often during our childhood, many times when what was happening was unpleasant. She would pipe up, "We're making memories." She used it often with me as she tried to do something with my curly hair. As you can she her attempts to tame it failed.
Many of you know my mom in many different capacities. You know her as a friend, a co-worker, a Sunday school teacher, church member. I want to tell you a few things about my mom that you may not know.
In our family she was the best back scratcher. She was a patient stick-shift teacher. According to her local grandchildren she was a talking phone book with better and more accurate information than "Ask Jeeves." She was a champion giblet gravy maker. She was the worst voice mail message leaver.
A couple of years ago on Easter Sunday, mom left me a message. It went something like this (read in slow, sombre monotone): "Rhonda, Michael, Daniel, Andrew, Susanna, This is Grandma Carolyn. I just called to say Happy Easter." When the message started I just knew someone had die because of the tone of her voice.
Papa Farley called her Cat and after his death, my sister, Theresa kept the nickname alive. Cat is an ironic nickname for my mom because she had an almost unhealthy fear of cats. I think that was a result of her brother, Ronnie, tossing a cat onto her head.
She wasn't a gourmet cook, but her stewed potatoes, fried okra and fried squash couldn't be beat.
To her grandchildren she was Grandma Carolyn, and sometimes Graham Cracker.
Twenty years ago, she began setting aside a portion of her vacation time each year to keep my kids during the summer. I was the envy of all of my friends. I thought that was what all grandmas did.
When our family vacationed at Lake Lure my mom with have evening lessons with the kids complete with activity pages, prizes and a dollar for someone to win.
I am convinced that Black Friday is a successful retail event solely based on the efforts of my mom. She started the tradition in our family of getting up before 4 a.m. to begin our shopping. It was breakfast at the Waffle House with deer hunters, shop, snack shop, shop, lunch, shop, shop and a stop by Krispy Kreme on the way home.
It really is a miracle that my sisters and I didn't think we had a long lost relative named "Clarance." Every time we shopped my mom said, "Look for the clarance." (Clearance.)
My mom wasn't a seamstress. She could sew on a button, but I doubt she could sew a straigth seam, but she could spot shotty workmanship in a garmet a mile away. I can't recall how many times she made us put down something we wanted to buy because the seams weren't straight or the cut wasn't right or the stripes didn't match.
If there was an award for the most words ever read in the Gaffney Ledger, I think my mom would win. In fact, according to my dad, this was probably one of the most puzzling things about my mom. If she went out of town, someone saved all the Ledgers for her while she was gone. Upon her return she would spent hours reading them all.
The video showed my mom fishing. I'm not so sure she liked fishing all that much, but she did like to reel them in. Most of all she liked spending time on the pontoon with daddy. In fact that is probably the best marital advice my mom ever gave me--spending the time with her husband, being there with him.
You probably didn't know that for almost two years my mom ran a roadside breakfast stand. Every morning my mom would meet her great-granddaughter, Alyssa, at the end of her driveway with a breakfast to go--a granola bar, egg sandwich, piece of pizza--all delivered with love. Alyssa said after she started eating breakfast at school, Grandma Carolyn and Papa Jerry would sit on the porch and wave to her as she went up the road to school.
She was a pen pal. When her granddaughter Heidi moved away from home to go to Wofford, my mom started a once a week letter campaign to Heidi. Until just a few weeks ago, she wrote Heidi one letter a week for seven years. The letter were clippings or just bits of news, but she didn't want Heidi's mailbox to go week without something in it.
My mom was a hero. One afternoon years ago, we were driving down Colonial Avenue. Smoke was coming from the eaves of a house. My mom stopped the car and went to the door. No one came to the door, but the door was open. My mom went in and came out with a baby that was crying in its crib. The mom and stepped next door to a neighbors house and the kitchen had caught on fire.
My mom married into a singing family, but never thought of herself as a singer. If the person beside her sang soprano, that's what she sang. If she sat in the alto section, she sang alto. I took get delight as a teenager by standing beside her in choir and jumping around to different parts. It would drive her crazy. But my mom was a faithful choir member, and she learned to sing.
When my mom went to the hospital in January, I drove down for a few days to stay with her. Everyone who came to her room got a "Have a blessed day" as they went out.
Our mom poured herself out for her family, and we are so full and so rich and so blessed because of it. So many people have said over the past few days, "Carolyn was a special lady" or "She was such a good person." And she was, but the reason these statements can be made about my mom is because she allowed Jesus to be big in her.
When my dad had to choose a scripture for the prayer card, he went to my mom's Bible and looked through it. He came back with Psalm 100: "Make a joyful noise unto the Lord...."
Mrs. Allison my mom's neighbor of 45 years stopped by the week and one of the things she said was, "Please don't let those joyful noises on that porch stop."
You see, I think for my mom spending time with her family, loving on them, pouring out for them, was one of the ways she worshipped the Lord.
(There were many things I forgot to say that day, and many things that these thoughts prompted us to think about. I'm sure there will be more to come.)
Saturday, April 24, 2010
A Blur
The past few months have been a blur. On Jan. 18, my mom was diagnosed with stage four breast cancer. On April 15 at 9:47 EST, she went to be with Jesus from her home in South Carolina. She was surrounded by some family members, friends and three hospice nurses. My dad led the charge of singing my mom into glory.
Since January, I have spent parts of 26 days away from home. I say parts because some of those days were travel days where I left my home at 7 a.m. or returned home in the evening. I logged over 7,500 miles on my van and now have a permanent love/hate relationship with 285 around Atlanta. (I know. I'm just joining millions of others.)
I have read more about breast cancer than I ever really wanted to know, performed nursing/care giver tasks that I never imagined I'd be called on to do, and consumed so many Foosh Mints that I may be caffeinated for the rest of the year.
To say that the past 90+ days or so that I've been preoccupied would be a gross understatement. Yet, in my preoccupation God has showed up in miraculous and wonderful ways--and He did it like always using His people--a perfectly timed email or phone call, a hug, a cake, tears shed together.
I'm still processing my experience and have no illusions about this being a quick return to normalcy. In fact, returning to normalcy seems kind of lame right now.
More later.
Since January, I have spent parts of 26 days away from home. I say parts because some of those days were travel days where I left my home at 7 a.m. or returned home in the evening. I logged over 7,500 miles on my van and now have a permanent love/hate relationship with 285 around Atlanta. (I know. I'm just joining millions of others.)
I have read more about breast cancer than I ever really wanted to know, performed nursing/care giver tasks that I never imagined I'd be called on to do, and consumed so many Foosh Mints that I may be caffeinated for the rest of the year.
To say that the past 90+ days or so that I've been preoccupied would be a gross understatement. Yet, in my preoccupation God has showed up in miraculous and wonderful ways--and He did it like always using His people--a perfectly timed email or phone call, a hug, a cake, tears shed together.
I'm still processing my experience and have no illusions about this being a quick return to normalcy. In fact, returning to normalcy seems kind of lame right now.
More later.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
The 2010 Purge
The Fraziers are in purge mode. Yesterday, I posted on Facebook about donating Michael's circa 80s silk jacket to Goodwill, and it caused a storm of comments that I usually only see when I post about food. I run with an interesting virtual crowd to say the least.
When it comes to purging clothes, I'm pretty good. The items I struggle with have sentimental value--like the t-shirt I got when I attend "College Day" at Lee. Or the Noah's Ark vest that my sister gave me and that one ridiculously small black skirt that I keep telling myself that I will be able to get back into one day. Just so you know, I kept the skirt.
Michael holds on a bit longer thus the silk jacket and a couple of suits that he hadn't worn in 14 years. I really see clothes these days--based on style and quality--as a disposable commodity. Of course, I'm not a fashionista either. My basic wardrobe consists of several pairs of black slacks and a variety of tops to really mix it up. I realized yesterday while cleaning the closet that Michael and I have almost exactly the same number of shoes. Is that typical? I don't think so.
We aren't really hoarders, but it has been interesting to note the things we have kept. It seems we're suckers for chargers and all things cable and cord. We also keep manuals and instructions. I found the manual for the first cell phone I ever had from '98ish. And I found I could track the kids' Christmas presents because for some strange reason I have kept the paperwork that came with the Fisher Price Pirate's Island and Shark Boat, not to mention the Fisher Price color changing flashlight, grill and Lego instructions. It was a funny and telling moment. The sad thing is I had already started a pile of cards and instructions for the things we got this year for Christmas--including the tags that came on the Crocs--I kid you not. You will be glad to know they (the Croc paperwork) is now in the trash. We also keep maps. I think we could track every camping/hiking trip we've ever been on. Wierd, I know. Those have been set aside for their own special purge session. You never know when state parks won't be providing those handy trail guides.
So the whole house is on notice. If it's not nailed down, its reason for being in our house is being questioned. This process will probably take several months because we do have other things to do. When I find something else that is not too embarrassing I'll be sure to share. Maybe.
When it comes to purging clothes, I'm pretty good. The items I struggle with have sentimental value--like the t-shirt I got when I attend "College Day" at Lee. Or the Noah's Ark vest that my sister gave me and that one ridiculously small black skirt that I keep telling myself that I will be able to get back into one day. Just so you know, I kept the skirt.
Michael holds on a bit longer thus the silk jacket and a couple of suits that he hadn't worn in 14 years. I really see clothes these days--based on style and quality--as a disposable commodity. Of course, I'm not a fashionista either. My basic wardrobe consists of several pairs of black slacks and a variety of tops to really mix it up. I realized yesterday while cleaning the closet that Michael and I have almost exactly the same number of shoes. Is that typical? I don't think so.
We aren't really hoarders, but it has been interesting to note the things we have kept. It seems we're suckers for chargers and all things cable and cord. We also keep manuals and instructions. I found the manual for the first cell phone I ever had from '98ish. And I found I could track the kids' Christmas presents because for some strange reason I have kept the paperwork that came with the Fisher Price Pirate's Island and Shark Boat, not to mention the Fisher Price color changing flashlight, grill and Lego instructions. It was a funny and telling moment. The sad thing is I had already started a pile of cards and instructions for the things we got this year for Christmas--including the tags that came on the Crocs--I kid you not. You will be glad to know they (the Croc paperwork) is now in the trash. We also keep maps. I think we could track every camping/hiking trip we've ever been on. Wierd, I know. Those have been set aside for their own special purge session. You never know when state parks won't be providing those handy trail guides.
So the whole house is on notice. If it's not nailed down, its reason for being in our house is being questioned. This process will probably take several months because we do have other things to do. When I find something else that is not too embarrassing I'll be sure to share. Maybe.
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