The Pajama Conundrum

I have *finally* finished the last two (of many) loads of laundry today. Hooray! Every week I marvel at how five people can wear so many clothes - and we're not even layering yet! As I watch the stacks grow ever higher, it never ceases to amaze me that the pajama pile is usually the highest for each of us. Granted, that's partly because PJ's are kind of the standard uniform for home schoolers. However, it got me to wondering - how many sets of clothing does a person need exclusively for drooling and dreaming in? Come to think of it - how many clothes does a person need at all?

This is kind of a dangerous train of thought for me, and I often get myself into trouble when I start to ask such questions. You may recall that I have blogged in the past about my struggle with 'stuff'. I used to have a real problem with it. ("Hi. My name is Andrea. I'm a stuff-a-holic.") Like most recovering addicts, I have becoming something of a zealot, much to the chagrin of those around me. I don't try to be preachy, but sometimes I can't help it.

Over the last two years our little nuclear family has been through a lot - much of it spiritual, and perhaps a tad cerebral as well. The long and short of it is that we have been searching for who we are, and what we're supposed to be doing in life. In that process, we've seriously considered everything from building on to our home in order to have more space available, to packing up and moving to a tiny island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. (I'm still praying earnestly for that last one to come true, by the way. Just a heads up.) Anyway, in the process of examining every possibility, God has asked us to lay everything at His feet, and hold nothing sacred but Him. This is why I'm wondering how many nightgowns we really need.

I have never felt more rich in my life than I do right now - when I have the least amount of items that I've ever owned. I gotta tell you - it's a good feeling. My home is less cluttered. My schedule is less cluttered. My heart and mind are less cluttered. And, my relationships (including with God) are less cluttered than they ever have been before. The open space that was created when I got rid of so much junk has since been filled with wonderful things. It's enough to make me want to rent a dumpster, open wide the doors and windows, and chuck all of the rest out, in order that I might be emptied to be even more filled with God's goodness.

But, that's the problem. I honestly don't know where to stop. I wasn't being rhetorical in asking how many jammies a person needs. I think that, as a modern, middle-class American, I am not well equipped to make a decision like that. Here's just one reason why: according to an article by MP Dunleavy of MSN, one in ten households in this country rent storage space - almost double what it was 15 years ago. Considering that houses now have, on average, 60% more square footage than they did just a generation or so ago, and the number of people living in those houses has gone down 20%, you have to wonder what they're all squirreling away. I bet at least some of it is PJs.

Want another reason why I'm ill-equipped to make decisions about physical possessions? I recently came across a blogpost about a beautiful and challenging book by photographer James Mollison, entitled Where Children Sleep. In it, there is no spin. No storytelling. No statistics or guilt trips about modern American life. Instead, there are only pictures. On one side of each page is a photo of a child from somewhere around the world. On the other side, a picture of where that child sleeps. What stunned me was the near-absence of personal belongings in most other countries, and the overwhelming glut of it in pictures from the United States. Even (or - more accurately - especially) in images of  children in the U.S. who are living in abject poverty, there is still stuff everywhere. It is clear that most modern Americans are well 'equipped' for life, but are we better off for it?

So, what's a gal to do? I suppose, in trying to decide how much stuff our family really needs, I could follow Madison Avenue's suggestion and buy even more clothing, in even more luxuriant styles, and with even bigger price tags attached. But, I'm pretty sure that ship has sailed for us. On the other hand, we could divest ourselves of all of our worldly goods, though the winters in Iowa do get a bit cold to be without any pajamas at all. Plus, a decision like that would only further my reputation as a zealous ex-addict.

Instead, I'm trying to take a more balanced approach. We clean out rooms and closets frequently - considering the difference between 'need' and 'want' as we do so. We weigh the pros and cons of each item we own or buy, including how much time and energy it will take to properly care for it. We remind each other (and ourselves) that we don't have any responsibility to our inanimate possessions, and that we only want to surround ourselves with things that truly bless and enrich our lives. We pray. We ponder. And, I blog - in hopes that you (my faithful readers) will know exactly how many sets of PJs (or anything else, for that matter) each of us really needs. I do sincerely want to hear your opinions and thoughts. And, if you could get back to me before the next laundry day, I'd appreciate it even more.

Finish Up Friday

It's Friday, and that is reason to celebrate! (You know - technically, every day is reason to celebrate, since it represents another opportunity to spread joy, fulfill your purpose, and make the world a better place. Just food for thought...) Even with gloomy financial reports, nasty weather forecasts, and an overflowing inbox, it's hard not to smile on Friday morning. What is it about Friday that makes us all in a better mood than any other day of the week?

I know - the standard answer is that it's because it's the start of the weekend, and everyone likes weekends. However, maybe Friday is our favorite because it's as much about wrapping up the workweek as it is about opening the gift of Saturday and Sunday. For me, Fridays have a different feel to them than any other days of the week. I can leave a file open or an email unsent on a Wednesday afternoon, but on Fridays I become a superhero - Andrea the Finisher.

This is no small feat. I'm much happier opening up new projects (and cans of worms) than I am wrestling them down, tying up their loose ends, or putting them bed. However, the thrill of starting something new never really can compete with the deep sense of satisfaction that comes from finishing well.

So - I encourage you to make this Friday count! Finish up a project you've been procrastinating on. Send that difficult email. Make that dreaded call. I am determined to do something today that will enable me to get out my big red pen and make a giant, bold, satisfying check mark next to some lingering project that's been on my mind and my desk for far too long. After all - that project deserves to rest in peace, and I am ready for some peace of mind and rest as well...

Stuff!

You  may have noticed that I am looking a bit thinner these days. You see, in the last few months I've lost close to 1500 pounds... of things, that is. You'd think that getting rid of nearly a ton of stuff would make a remarkable and significant difference in the appearance and functionality of our home. Alas, that is not quite the case. In fact, I'm sad to say that there are still piles on many of the flat surfaces, way too many clothes and toys, and a garage full of mysterious items with dubious histories and even more questionable futures. (Just how did a family of five end up with eight broken bikes, and what made us think they were all worth saving?) But, I'm making progress.


I come from a long line of packrats. (Sort of a disturbing mental image when you picture it literally - isn't it?) My paternal grandmother lived through the Great Depression, and saved things because of a real and rational fear of having to go without.  My grandfather on the other side was a farm kid, and knew the value of a bit of twine or a length of wire in a pinch. I think it's fair to say that the sound logic behind the saving has gotten weaker with each passing generation, though the desire to collect has not. Granted - everyone in my family manages our possessions with enough order and organization to ensure that they don't become a real problem in our lives. However, I sometimes have to ask myself whether I am the possessor or the possessed.

A dear loved one recently passed away. Long after she had settled her accounts, had her say,and  made her peace, she had one last burden that she couldn't seem to shake. With a heavy sigh late one night, she made me promise that I would help go through her home after she passed because she was worried that people would judge her harshly for all of the things that she had. I have never looked at my 'stuff' the same way since.


In a way, it was frightening to think that someone's last worries on earth would be about something so trivial. But, if I'm really honest with myself, I must admit that that's probably what I would worry about in that situation as well.  I sensed more deeply in that moment than ever before that stuff can be a blessing, or stuff can be a curse. It's all in the way you look at it. It was an amazingly liberating experience.

Since then, I've had a different perspective. I supposed it's possible that one of those broken bikes in the garage might be worth fixing (old me), but I can guarantee that not a single one of them is worth worrying over (new me). So, I got rid of them. I got rid of things I thought I could use, things I thought I might use, things I thought I would use, and even things I thought were way too special and sentimental to ever be used. And, boy - did it feel great! Around our house, we've started calling it "getting flexible". I've heard some call it lightening the load, de-cluttering, de-junking, letting go, giving up, and even getting free.Whatever you call it, I'm just glad that I'm the one who possesses my stuff these days, and am determined to never again let it possess me.