Lately I've been on this "sort and clean so my kids don't have to do it after I die" kick. Rather than motivated by impending gloom, it's actually been a lot of fun.
The first phase of this journey has been the shreddingand shreddingand shredding of documents no longer required. Some things got tossed but tiny bits of confidential information now buildup our garden. If you know someone who needs filing folders, let me know. I've got plenty of empties!
Then there are those cookbooks: Piles of cookbooks; pages of recipes torn from decades old publications and handwritten instructions from friends and family. Not to be forgotten are recipes for items seen only on the tables of cooks who qualify as "gourmet". Somewhere over the decades I lost the appetite to try my hand at preparing these delectable dishes.
Over the past months I've passed along unused items of clothing, jewelry, and dishes. I'm still struggling with giving up books, though, so I'll leave that for another chapter of this journey.
Probably the most interesting things I've discovered, however, are handwritten outlines of my days. Grocery shopping lists that note stores and sale prices, to-do lists detailing an impossible amount of work for a mere day's labour and lists of appointments to attend. I've sighed with exhaustion and gladly crumbled those reminders of what I did or didn't do. They hit the garbage can, not even worthy of the garden soil. On the other hand, efforts at following my self imposed lists weren't all in vain; looking back I realize they kept me focused while motivating me to reach my goals.
God uses lists: responses to Job's questioning of His sovereignty, instructions to New Testament churches and requests for wisdom all come in the form of listscomplete with divine grace and power to tackle them.
