Cleaning Out and Moving Forward

Last month I wrote about the small joys in life that can still be found, despite the chaos and turmoil that seem to be increasing all around us.

I meant every word of that blog post. I also felt like I was sinking deeper into quicksand with every step I took.

It was a culmination of things, I think. The family transitions that come around every August but still knock me off kilter for a while. The chaos unfolding in Afghanistan. National and regional headlines.

On top of all that, my pharmacy filled a prescription with a different generic version of my medication, and although the pharmacist told me it was the same thing, my body vehemently disagreed.

This is the part of life you don’t see on Instagram or even in the writing of a blogger who tries her very best to be authentic. Not every story needs to be told—right then or even at all. (I know this is obvious, but I think it’s good to remind ourselves of it every once in a while.)

As I was waiting on another prescription, my mind was too muddled to write. For some reason, though, I had a great deal of energy to clean out my closet.

This is unusual for me. I tend to wear a few items of clothing over and over and mostly ignore the rest. I tell myself if I get rid of everything I don’t wear, my closet would be nearly empty and I’d have to go shopping. Which I also don’t enjoy.

I took advantage of this strange motivation to cull my closet, though. The bright patterns and wide stripes that I liked in my early 40s went on the donation pile, along with a pair of floral ankle pants that dated back to the early 2000s.

I came up with quite a stack, and then proceeded to go through the same process with daughter Molly (minus the bright patterns—she veers toward understated in her clothing choices).

Editing the closets led to cleaning out the refrigerator, and then the cram-packed cupboard where I keep grocery staples like pasta, rice and microwave popcorn.

All this downsizing got me thinking about my blog files, and how overdue they were for some serious culling. It’s been a couple of years—two, to be exact.

Sometime in the spring of 2019, I went through about 90 Word documents containing ideas, notes and half-written pieces that I had been accumulating for several years. After narrowing the whole lot of it down to 34 files, I wrote this:

Now that I’ve decluttered my files, my goal—at least for the month of April—is to write for an hour every week day. I don’t have a particular number in mind, but I’m looking forward to making a dent in this collection of unwritten blog posts, some of which I’ve been thinking about for quite some time.

I’m fully aware that all of this may change with a phone call from my parents’ nursing home. As early as this afternoon, tomorrow or the day after that, all these plans may have to go right back on the backburner.

It’s happened before. It will likely happen again. But while I do need to live my life in the moment (because it might be my last of that sort of moment), I can’t let the uncertainty of the future keep me from moving forward into the future.

Ten days later, my mom died. Five weeks later, my dad joined her in heaven.

My writing was sporadic for a few months. Then, as all those carefully organized future blog posts waited patiently in their folder, I scratched out more current thoughts about loss, grief and pushing through the hard—hoping that the words that were consoling my heart would bring a touch of comfort to someone else’s heart too.

I actually got around to writing a few of those future blog posts during the last two years, but many were still there in the folder when I decided to edit my blog files again.

I began the process with a bit of trepidation—I can’t exactly forget what happened after I did this the last time, after all. Nevertheless, I knew it was time. Time to organize, evaluate each file, ask questions like, “Do I even care about that topic anymore?” “Does it match the new mission of my blog?” “Would the material fit better somewhere else?” “Why on earth did I ever save this?”

I started with about 60 files and ended up with 24. Last time, I wrote about holding my writing plans loosely; this time, that directive is even more firmly grounded in my heart.

I hope to flesh out most of the half-written posts, and I hope it doesn’t take me two years to do it. But I’m also keeping an ear out for the still, small Voice that frequently directs my thoughts in unexpected directions.

He’s still doing a new thing, after all. In you, in me, in the world. Sometimes it feels like we’re just along for the very bumpy ride, but I promise you this—as long as I’m able, I’m going to keep writing as we bounce along.

♥ Lois

P.S. I’m linking up this week with #tellhisstory, InstaEncouragements, Recharge Wednesday, Let’s Have Coffee, Inspire Me Monday, #HeartEncouragement and Grace & Truth.