Lessons from the Legos

I am gonna just assume you have read about our past few days and start right in.  If you are dazed and confused (join me in my closet) then you may want to go back and read that post.

Otherwise moving on!

You know, I have been pretty proud of myself.  That, of course, was my first mistake!  I am by nature a worrier.  I used to tell friends that I did not need to stop because I was just so good at it.  God has been working on me through the past few years and I have made baby steps in the right direction.  So, I was proud of myself for minimal stressing through this move and not one tear shed.

Yep, again, my first mistake.

Then, THE day came.  And do you want to know what started it all?

LEGOS!
These legos-

See them all in a pile?  They use to be about 15 sets that were perfectly put together.  By my 11 year old., of course, not me.  But this is what they looked like when they arrived.  And you know what?  I actually talked pleaded with the packer about these sets...to take care of them, they were fragile, they were important to my son, yada yada yada.  I think the part he heard was yada yada yada.  Needless to say, my son lost it.  Big time.

Many hours were invested in the building. I get it.
Didn't the packers care about anything?  Doesn't seem like it at this particular moment.
Next time we are taking them all in the car.  um, no.

And truly, at first I felt horrible.  I felt his pain.  I have unpacked my fair share of broken things.  I tried to sympathize.  I imagined how one of the girls might have reacted if their beloved dolls were broken when they were younger.  But, because we all are tired, displaced and running on fumes, the emotional scene just went on and on and on.  And on.

And then the tears came.  Mine.

Because, you see, after I felt bad I got mad.  And not just at my son.  At myself.

Because it. is. all. just. stuff!

And it is so not important.  Somewhere along the way we seem to have lost sight of what is important and it breaks my heart.  It makes me feel guilty.  It makes me feel like a failure as a parent. It makes me ashamed.  And it should. 

And so this is what I told my son.  And myself-

We have a friend whose son went into the hospital for a quick surgery and came out four weeks later.

We have a friends whose husbands have just been deployed for a year.
We have friends who struggle to keep their type 1 diabetes kiddos alive daily.

We have friends whose marriages are surviving only by the grace of God.

We have friends who are struggling to pay their bills.

Do you think a pile of Legos really matters?

Or broken dishes?

Or a favorite broken lamp?

When did we get to be so petty?  When did we forget that people are so much more important than stuff?

I do not want to be that kind of family. I do not want to be that kind of friend.  When people walk into my house I want them to see a family that cares about them.  I do not want them to see the stuff we have accumulated.  It is worth repeating, I want them to see a family that cares about them.

And so if that means letting go of things to get back to basics that is what we will do.  That is what we ARE doing.  Piece by piece and box by box.  Stuff is going out. 

Is it easy?  Nope.  I like to decorate.  I like cute stuff.  But it is weighing us down.  Literally and emotionally and I refuse to let stuff take over our home and our hearts. 

So when you see empty drawers and empty shelves, know that where there used to be stuff, there is now more room for you. 

Because this family is making changes.  May God get the glory!

Blessings,
Michele