Stuff

We just moved. We had all our belongings in storage for 3 months while we traveled and looked for a house. All but a few books and a week's worth of clothes. And you know what? I didn't miss my stuff at all.

Oh, there were a few times when Tabitha asked for her lion (a sit-upon toy that was too big to take on a car trip). And when winter came, I wished I knew which box held our heavy coats.

We were paying $150 per month at a storage facility to store our stuff. And we were paying $50 to use a space in someone's barn. And we left some things in Port Townsend. And we still have a few things left at Mom and Dad's.

I remember being in Uganda in 1990. Mark Berryman pointed out to us that Americans are stuff gatherers. We had left most of our belongings in the States. We had left some things in Eldoret, Kenya, still more in Jinja, and we had brought a backpack full of stuff with us. We didn't have much then. We were poor college students. But what we brought in our backbacks, our very most essential stuff, was probably about how much the people we were visiting owned-- total.

I am trying to learn to let go of stuff. Not just the things still in boxes in my office and garage, but anything that is temporary. Job, identity, house, car, time... It's all going to burn in the end. It's all a wisp of air and then it's gone. I want to spend time on what matters-- people. And at this point, that means getting down on the floor and playing with Tabitha even when I have dishes to do, or kissing the girls goodnight even if they get slobber on me.

I'm fighting an uphill battle. Since moving to the city, I'm baraged with the message that the things I own define who I am. I want to believe it. I want to consume, to own, to possess. But it's just not true. I am not defined by what I own. I am defined by the one who owns me.

And that's enough.