Everywhere we turned, there was chaos. The task before us seemed insurmountable, but it was time to roll up our sleeves and face the challenge head on.
It was a dirty job. It was a tiring task. It seemed like there was no end in sight. But, we finally succeeded and conquered after two laboring days of toil.
Yep, hubby and I finally tamed the too-much stuff monster in the basement of our home. We cleaned, we sorted, we organized, we tossed.
We managed to corral the stuff into four categories: keep and organize; haul out to the garbage for disposal; cart off to GoodWill for someone else’s use; and burn, baby, burn!
I still believe way too many items lurk in storage bins and boxes, but resting on shelves and nesting on top of each other, at least it looks manageable. And items can be more easily found now. Our grown-up children’s belongings are neatly stacked in boxes in areas reserved just for them.
Christmas decorations have found a new home, no more climbing up a ladder to retrieve them from the attic. Come late spring, the basement will look even roomier when all of our deck and front porch furniture move back outside.
This task may not sound like something worthy of writing about on this ninth page of Chapter One (January 9th) in my book of Opportunity, but accomplishing it provided a chance to reflect on some food for thought.
Working side by side, hubby and I tackled the chore together, so much more enjoyable than attacking it alone. We enjoyed the opportunity to talk as we toiled, we reminisced, we discussed, we laughed, and yes, we even disagreed. But it felt great to complete the job as a team.
The second opportunity presented itself in boxes of memories. Hubby discovered a forgotten box of some personal effects from his parents’ house giving him moments to remember and reminisce about his boyhood and his parents, who have been gone for many years now.
My opportunity for blessing came in the form of cherished letters written while hubby served in the military stationed on the other side of the world for a year while I, pregnant with our first child, tried to hold down the home front. Today I read each of those letters in an effort to decide what to do with them – keep or destroy?
I decided to preserve those priceless memories written on paper, hopeful that someday our adult children (especially oldest daughter since she was born that year) may want to read them and get a glimpse at a year in the life of their parents. Perhaps my opportunity will become their opportunity to understand how very much their parents loved one another and the struggle we endured being apart for an entire year.
So on this day, in the age of emails and text messaging, I will take the opportunity to save some good old-fashioned hand-written love letters.