Rummage

We're in the middle of our annual rummage sale here at the church. Mountains of stuff came in over the past couple of weeks -- and mounds of stuff are leaving in the arms of people who have dropped a few dollars for the items. It's a pretty good deal, of course, and our Allen Class and the kids going to the Pittsburgh Project really benefit from the sale.

It's just amazing to me how much stuff people accumulate -- and how much stuff I accumulate, for that matter. I saw some really neat stuff, some junk, some collectables and some -- well, some stuff I'm really not sure what it is... It would be really neat if I could see who brought what stuff into the sale. What does the fact that they owned it say about them? What does the fact that they are giving it away say about them?

Nah -- that wouldn't be any good, because I know the kind of stuff that I brought in. What it says about me is that I've received some pretty off the wall gifts... Of course, if I brought in everything that I don't use anymore... well, let's just say that the gym isn't big enough.

So, why do I hold on to so much stuff? It doesn't do me any good packed away in boxes, stuffed in the basement or the garage, tucked away in closets. Why do I hold on to it? Oh, I know I'm not the only one, but I AM the only one that I can really push about this. Lori would LOVE it if I would just chuck it all -- especially the books and the old games and the totes full of toys (two daughters and I have several thousand army men and dozens of Star Wars figures...sigh...) and the old clothes that I probably won't ever wear again and why are we holding on to all those magazines?

I have trouble letting go of stuff. There. I can admit it. Is there such a thing as Packrats Anonymous? PA meetings? "Hi, my name is Bill." Hi Bill. "I'm a packrat. It all started when I was a kid. I kept losing all my favorite things and stuff that I really wanted to keep would get thrown away and..." Okay, I don't know why I am what I am. But I am... There's too much junk in my life. I can't let go of a piece of electronic gear that we haven't used in the band in almost ten years because (and if you know a packrat, you've heard this one) it just might come in handy someday. Or you never know when someone will need one. Or...whatever. They're excuses. I haven't used -- no I haven't even looked at -- some of the stuff I can't let go of in years. I have a couple of boxes still packed from when we moved to Warren almost three years ago. It's junk. Some of it is good junk. But it isn't useful to me.

I'm holding on to a lot of useless things these days. Comic books, software (on 5 1/4" floppy disks no less), notebooks from college, novels I've read and will never read again, those old toys, CDs of bands I've already forgotten about (and music that wasn't even good when it was new). That's just a quick list off the top of my head. There's gotta be more. I'm sure there is. Lori could tell you -- ask her some time...

But it isn't just useless things I'm holding on to. There's a bunch of junk cluttering up my heart, too. I've got a big box full of resentment and a pile of unfulfilled dreams. I keep stepping around a precarious pile (looks a lot like a Jenga pile) of hurts and regrets. I manage to sweep out the dust bunnies of anger and self-pity now and then -- but they creep back in too... But it's all just rummage. I can't sell it. Who would want it? Well, there was a price paid for it. A pretty high price -- in fact, the highest. But I don't seem to want to let go of it.

Jesus -- why can't I let go of it?

God -- why do You want all that junk?

I have to go. The rummage sale is still going on and I have to help sell off all that stuff...