Loose Roots

I am a wife, a mother, a registered nurse (who hasn’t worked in that field in over three years), and a hobby writer. But something you may not know about me is that about two years ago, I started a professional organizing business: something I have thought "sounded fun" for a long time.

It has been such an endearing adventure for my heart—the kind of heart that loves a challenge and gets bored pretty quickly without one. It's been a happy, sunny expedition. I've enjoyed the challenge of learning "the business" side of it all.

I’ve always loved organizing. It's always come pretty naturally to me. I remember being a little girl and regularly rearranging my room. My version of fun was refolding the clothes in my drawers until everything was lined up just so. Order has always been something I appreciate, which I find a little ironic since I am an Enneagram 7 who delights deeply in spontaneity and adventure.

As a child I would regularly neaten up my sister’s room, and when I went to friends’ houses to play, I often ended up cleaning their rooms too. I got invited over a lot. ;) A dear childhood friend was over at my home for dinner last week, and we were chuckling about how I used to clean her room when we were kids.

All that to say, I’ve been this way for as long as I can remember.

But as I’ve gotten older—and as my circle of responsibility has widened—I’ve become even more convinced that order can be a tremendous gift...especially as it relates to our relationships.

I’ll sometimes see an Amazon truck pull up to a house near mine once, maybe even twice, in the same day. And it has made me think about something I don’t think we talk about very often:

Every purchase comes with a cost beyond money.

Time.

Mental real estate.

Upkeep.

Whatever we bring into our homes has to be managed. It needs a place to live. It may need to be returned, which means printing a label or making a trip to the UPS store. It may need to be cleaned, maintained, stored, repaired, organized, used, or eventually passed along to someone else.

None of those things are bad per se.

But they do take something from us.

Time. Space. Attention. Mental energy. Management.

I am a professional organizer, yes. But here, on this little corner of the internet where I am passionate about sharing my thoughts and faith, I want to share why I feel so deeply that owning less has the potential to nurture the freedom we need to invest more of ourselves where “moth and rust do not destroy.”

“Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

-Matthew 6:19-21

About a year and a half ago, William and I sold our homestead.

It was a beautiful-to-us place that we had fixed up, and there was so much about that season of life that we loved. But over time, we began to realize that it was asking for more of our time, money, and attention than we wanted to give it.

Homesteads are wonderful, and I am certainly not knocking them. For some families, that kind of life is deeply life-giving. But for us, we began to feel the Lord gently tapping us on the shoulder and asking us to loosen our grip.

So we downsized.

We moved into what is technically a condo, about half the square footage of our homestead house, and we sold roughly half of our belongings along the way. We became much more intentional about living with less.

Not because minimalism is somehow more spiritual. I don't think that. I don't believe there is anything more holy about having fewer possessions.

We simply knew our own hearts. We could feel ourselves becoming a little too tangled up in tangible things, and for us, that conviction was worth making a change. And while this wasn't the sole reason for our move, it was a definite contributing factor.

And truthfully? We love our little home.

Our cozy "beach" condo (that's what we call it because that's what it feels like) has given us a sense of freedom that is hard to explain. It is smaller. It is easy to maintain. It asks very little of us.

And I love that.

If God ever gives us the opportunity to live overseas, we could leave this little place without feeling like we were walking away from an enormous project we had spent years building and maintaining. There is something deeply freeing to me about holding our earthly home with open hands. While I want it to feel cozy, I don't want to be overly attached to it.

Our 9-year-old doesn't have an overflowing amount of toys. And she is content. She uses her imagination. She plays with her friends. She reads, creates, explores, plays outside, and makes up games.

She is happy.

We are happy.

And while I would never say that having fewer things automatically creates a happier family, I do think living with less has created more margin in ours.

More room to breathe.

More room to notice.

More room to say yes when God puts someone in our path.

More room to linger.

I think, for me, that is really what this is all about.

Loose roots.

I want to enjoy the life God has given me without gripping it too tightly (oh my webbed heart). I want to appreciate beautiful things without needing to collect all of them. I want to care for my home without allowing my home to consume all of my care.

And your heart may not feel this as deeply as mine does. Your family may have more space, more belongings, or simply a different rhythm, and that is okay. I don't want to make blanket statements about what faithfulness has to look like for someone else. I truly believe it can look a lot of different ways. This is just my experience.

For me, owning less has helped me feel freer to love more.

Freer to linger with people.

Freer to serve.

Freer to listen.

Freer to go where God asks me to go.

And that is one of the reasons I have become so passionate about helping other people untangle themselves from the things they no longer use or need as a professional organizer.

Not because stuff is bad.

But because Jesus is better, and we Christ-followers are just passing through.

I hope this blog post encourages you, fellow Sojourner. I'll leave you with this quote that I am planning to have needle-pointed and hung by my front door to remind my own heart...

"Only one life, 'twill soon be past. Only what's done for Christ will last."

—C.T. Studd

*A few thoughts from Gemma on this very topic for my dear sisters and brothers reading from a different cultural context:

From an African standpoint, it is a little strange to hear someone endorse a more minimalist approach to life - we are minimalistic in nature. No doubt, consumerism is in Nigeria, but it is rampant among the higher social class because of the obvious - exposure to Western ideas and way of life.

Some might argue that we are this way because of economic challenges, in part it is true but as a whole, it is false. 

When I left the Rafiki village for a first time (holidays), I noticed that my village folk (who barely had anything at all) were very happy. At first, it was annoying to me because...what's there to be happy about? That you barely have anything at all? On my second visit, I tried to understand why they seemed genuinely happy. Some things I found was that:

1. There was order/rhythm - The house was always swept and arranged in the morning. Then they went to their farms. Water was fetched in the evening. Food was eaten together outside. Everyday.

2. Nothing was bought for the individual. It was for the home. Even clothes were bought to last so they could be passed down.

3.They spent time together, at home, in the farm, at mining sites. Families were always together. They found it strange that I always wanted to be left alone. It was a bit strange--I did learn that having more doesn't equate to being happy. Their needing less wasn't a lack of progress, it was wisdom.

On the part, yes, we buy less because it suits us better. We're always on survival mode (although I believe it shouldn't be so). Few have jobs they can live on and even fewer can afford to save. If you are able to save, your savings will save you in the next day or two - not in months. It's not a good place to be but it teaches a valuable lesson: all that we see is fleeting. All that we really have is the breath in our lungs and even that will cease someday.