I don’t regard myself as a hoarder at all. In the earlier years of our marriage, we moved several times and were careful with each move to throw out things we felt we didn’t need to hold onto. Then when we finally bought our own home, we had to pare things down even more, since we had three children to fit into a very small house.
Now, thirty years on, we still live in that same house, although the children have moved out. Yet I continue to be careful not to hold onto unnecessary clutter. After all, we have to make room now for such items as strollers and car seats for the grandchildren! But what of all those books everywhere? And what of that chest of drawers in our bedroom, bulging with a crazy mix of old jewellery, overseas coins, school and music certificates, cards with precious greetings or encouraging words inside them, grandchildren’s drawings and other intriguing objects?
Recently, I lent more of those precious books on my shelves to some friends. Yes, I do keep a record of such things, but in the process of adding to this list, I noticed some books have been out there for quite a while. Then I remembered one from past years that has long gone, never to return. It was quite expensive—and I began to feel a little resentful. How dare someone lose track of something that is mine? I loved that book. I want it back! But then I began to laugh at myself. I know the person to whom I lent it well and respect him. I would gladly give him the monetary value of that book any time. So why am I so bothered by losing something that is just a thing, after all?
But last week, I faced an even bigger test. Having cleaned out one of those bedroom drawers, I decided to sell two old brooches I discovered there that I think belonged to my grandmother. I knew no family members wanted them and I myself had never worn them. I headed to an antiques dealer—somehow that seemed more palatable than selling the items for their gold value alone, which I knew was not high. The dealer named his price, but when it came to the crunch, I found myself reluctant to part with one brooch in particular. Something in its pretty design reminded me of my grandmother, whom I loved very much.
I went away and thought about it for a while, but then made up my mind. I still have wonderful memories of my grandmother. I can see her now, with her beautiful, wavy, white hair and gentle, loving ways. Yes, the brooch was pretty, but I don’t need it to remind me of her. After all, it’s just a thing—those memories are far more valuable and will never be lost or fade from my mind.
I loved my grandmother. And I love my books and my jewellery. But I know I need to hold onto them lightly—because there’s something, or rather, Someone I love even more. You know, when all is said and done, what Jesus said about the things we treasure is so true, don’t you think?
But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. Matt 6::20-21
Jo-Anne Berthelsen's Blog 