The Move

Posting this spring photo in January is really the height of irony, but that shabby old picnic table is a symbol of the changes taking place in our lives right now. You see, the table has served at decades of backyard picnics and birthday parties. We’ve repotted hundreds of plants there and, for a while, it was a feeding station for our feral cat, Flash.

One evening last fall, as our son hauled the table away in his trailer, I stood in the driveway and blubbered like my best friend was being dragged off. I didn’t want to let go of the picnic table, but it was time. Our 4-level house with the lovely yard is up for sale. We are moving to a nice, new home with no steps and a postcard-sized yard.

Downsizing is one of the hardest jobs I’ve had. My new mantra is, “Keep it if you like it, use it, and it’s in good repair.” But, wow, it’s surprising how many things meet two of the three criteria. The picnic table, for example, was well loved and used, but suffering from wood rot. Away it went.

Some items only meet one of the three criteria. I love that chipped, hand-painted pitcher that collects dust on top of our kitchen cabinets. When I discovered one just like it selling for $48 on eBay, and maybe it was by Ditmar Urbach, my pitcher went right in the “save” box. And I don’t even know who Ditmar Urbach is.

I won’t go into the fact that we have inherited stuff from our parents and aunts and uncles that we hate to part with, or that I still have a couple dolls and a whole wardrobe of doll clothes made by my mother. And as I packed my doll bottle sterilizer away, I realized you’d have to be of a certain age to even know its purpose.

Here is another problem: If you finally decide to let something go, what do you do with it? I’ve been making weekly trips to a nearby charity and putting things on www.bismanonline.com, the local equivalent of e-Bay, but that’s like moving a mountain with a spoon. Plus, I fear someday I’ll meet Lucille Hendrickson in heaven. She’ll be carrying a reporter’s notepad and want to know why the crystal dish she gave me ended up at Good Will. Guess I’ll keep the dish.

I’ve noticed that when we tell our friends that we’re downsizing, their collars get a little tight. The topic has the same social appeal as telling someone you just planned your funeral. No one wants to think about it, let alone do it.

Maybe that’s because our generation followed those who survived the Depression era. Oh, the stories they told of turning a flour bag into a dress, or making a meal for 10 out of a cup of flour and a teaspoon of salt. Baby boomers grew up in that aura of gloom, but moved on to the sweet pleasure of owning stuff. At least that’s my excuse for the 25 pairs of footwear I’m carting to our new place.

Looking forward is a topic imbedded in almost every Prairie Lighthouse blog post, and it is a central theme in my upcoming book, “Secrets of the Dark Closet.” In times of change, I relentlessly encourage others to believe they are facing a new beginning rather than the end. But do I trust God with this next phase of my own life? You, dear readers will have to be the judges.

Still, there are definite perks to letting go and moving on. When cleaning house recently, I realized I won’t be dragging the vacuum up and down 22 steps any more. Plus, we’ll be within walking distance of our children (though far enough away so they can’t spy on us.) There’s a nice coffee shop just a good morning stroll away. We can choose the books, art and music to take with us, and there are sunny south-facing windows, a fireplace for chilly nights, and a welcoming space for visitors.

All month, I’ve felt God speak to me through the prophet Isaiah. “Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing. Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way…” That’s Isaiah 43: 18-19. Not bad advice for the beginning of a new year and a new phase of life.

Oh, and the picnic table? I recently spied it in our son’s garage.