"Mimi, look at all your stuffs," declared Mason. He was demonstrating the breadth of the situation with his arms as he declared again, "Mimi, look at all your stuffs. You have lots of stuffs." I had to agree with him, there was no way around it. Mimi has lots of stuffs. Mason is my very observant three-year-old grandson.
I read a great book several years ago, Messies No More, and it's a self-help book on decluttering your life. The author provides great tips on getting rid of the stuff in your house or storage unit or wherever you keep your "stuffs" so you can get your house and your life in order. I found it interesting that the author addressed the emotional attachment we have to our stuff. For instance, I could no longer wear a dress I wore in the eighth grade, but it's had some great memories attached to it, so I drug it around from house to house like a security blanket. My Daddy was nominated as Young Businessmen's Man of the Year when I was in the eighth grade. I will confess that the eighth grade was many, many years ago. Mother and Daddy took me to the awards banquet and Daddy bought me this gorgeous lace-covered dress. It was a pastel pink with a lace overlay and I loved it. I felt so special escorting my Daddy to this banquet; even though he didn't win the award, he was my man of the year and every time I saw that dress I remembered how proud I was that night and how special I felt.
It is difficult for me to throw clothes away because I am emotionally attached to them. I remember what I wore on my first date with Danny. I remember what he was wearing. I remember what I wore to the baby shower for my first child. I remember what I was wearing when two boys in my class said some very unkind things about me. For whatever reason, I associate clothes with emotions. But, I know they are just pieces of fabric that have no life in and of themselves; they are the result of someone else's imagination and creativity, not mine, so why the attachment?
I've gotten a whole lot better in the last two or three years about cleaning out my closet. When the racks become too crowded, I remind myself to get in there and throw away what I haven't worn in six months or longer. That really is a good rule of thumb although it can be painful to carry out.
But, one day, I will trade in all of my clothes for a new wardrobe; one that will be as pure as new-fallen snow. One that will be made just for me, custom designed by the greatest Designer of all times, Jesus. He will put a new robe on me that represents his righteousness. God will not be looking at my dress or pantsuit, He'll be looking at His Son's garment of righteousness. I'm sure it will be just the right size, don't you?
I think it's time to get a Salvation Army bag of clothes together. How about you?