i am in the middle of a book that causes my mind to scream & struggle with the way i live-think-breathe. it's called 7 by jen hatmaker. it's kind of a diary of her journey of tackling seven months of less to become more. less of her, jen & more of Him, God. i realize i couldn't do 7...like she eats only seven foods for a month. yep, she eats eggs, avocado, chicken, apples {and three other foods which escape me at the moment} for 30 days straight. freakin' crazy-sriracha would be a MUST on that list just to continue to add spice to my little life.
the premise of the book is both fascinating & appaling-kind of like driving by a horrific car crash. i slow to see the damage, then immediately slam my eyes shut {while driving myself & beautiful family at 72 mph down the interstate-yea, i confess: i am a speeder & a rubbernecker}, hoping to erase the image forever from my mind.
we live in a culture of entitlement, with each generation puffing itself up a bit more-feeling more deserving of all the "stuff" life has to offer. spacious homes, "greener" cars, trendier fashions, alluring vacations-i am a product of this entitlement. i have lots of stuff & love collecting {actually purchasing-the "stuff" i crave is seldom free} more. MORE. AND MORE STUFF. AND NOW PLEASE BECAUSE I DESERVE IT!
i have a drawer full of all sorts of bras-padded, push-up, demi, sports and yet, just two boobs.
i have over 102 dinner plates (yep, just dinner plates-not counting the ones for dessert or salad or saucers} and yet, just two of us eat here regularly.
i have a jar big enough to house a family of gold fish full of nail polish and yet, prefer {and pay!} someone else to paint my nails.
dear stuff {yeah, i am talking to you-bras, plates, polish}
i like having you all around. you sparkle, shine, support my girls while i'm getting fit. but some days {okay, almost all day-everyday} i am so busy with you i forget all about Him. perhaps {and it breaks a piece of my heart to admit this} you need to take a backseat in my life.
when i had babies, the love in my heart grew...like i was sure there wouldn't be enough love for the next baby because my heart was so over-joyed {except a 3:24 am feeding time} and brimming with love i was adamant it was mathematically impossible for there to be anymore love for the next baby, but somehow the love grew ten-fold when the next and then the next baby came along. but bras, polish, plates don't make my heart grow more love. they have the adverse effect. my heart grows greed, wanting more, believing more is due to me.
you see, stuff, it is about love & relationships. with pjm being so sick, the lenses of life have been wiped clearer forcing me to realize life just isn't about my collection of stuff. its about the family and friends & their love filling the space dementia has left. and all that stuff pjm collected over the years patiently waits for his return. motorcycles sitting silent in the garage, work boots collecting a thick layer of dust, tools yearning to cut, pound, build. how will i tell all his stuff he is not coming back? sorry stuff, pjm has forgotten you-he no longer cares about any of you.
stuff, you are intentionally distracting me from the purpose of life: love of God & love of people.
i must work diligently at learning to let you go.
me...collector of fine stuff
Loved this!! So thought provoking and heart wrenching because we are all guilty of "stuffing our lives full of stuff" that really means nothing, right? I need to have my heart and mind stuffed full of of God's word and promises to remind me that is all the stuff I need. The book sounds interesting :) You are a great writer my friend!
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This is the third mention of this book in my circle. Hmm. Suppose there is a hidden message I'm to receive? Not so hidden I suppose. It's next on my list of "stuff" to purchase.
ReplyDeleteLove you, your open heart, your honest words... You. All of you.
Miss you madly.