…this bottle of amoxicillin is sitting on my table at our TLQs (temporary living quarters). My son (who will remain anonymous) has an ear infection – his first ever. I don’t think he’s even been on antibiotics before, thank the Lord, but who knows, when you have five boys you tend to forget such details…but back to the main point: Here I am with his meds and he’s 50 miles away, having a wonderful time with friends. Seeing that he is a very happy-go-lucky sort of guy with much more important things on his mind, I always text him to remind him of each dose, whether he’s at his yardwork jobs, out gallivanting or in his bedroom practicing his guitar. So about two hours ago, I texted him a reminder. He immediately phoned and asked, “Uh…whadja do with my medicine, Mama? I can’t find it in my bag.” I said, “I put it in a Ziploc bag and handed it to you before you left the house.” He said, “I musta left it in the car that’s at home.” I said, “I’m gonna hang up now so I don’t say something mean ’cause I’m not happy right now.” He said, “I love ya!” “I love you too.” Click. So then, because I’m sure I had nothing better to do I phoned the doctor’s office and arranged for several doses of the medication to be sent to his locale, seeing that he would be missing 5 doses that are sitting on my kitchen counter, that I already paid for. Strained smile. Then I think we must have texted back and forth 10 times until he had SWALLOWED the pill and confirmed that it was down the hatch. Yep, he is his mother’s child…

We all have them. Oddities about ourselves that drive us and others nuts. For example, my husband and I were landing after a longgggg 12-hour flight from somewhere like South Africa when I looked down and noticed he had been using a lovely footrest the entire time. I only noticed it as we were landing. Argh. A footrest is one thing when you’re on a 90-minute leg, but when you’re on a flight long enough to be aging, that footrest is invaluable. That was 4 years ago and I’m still kicking myself. (another of my quirks: rehearsing my self-inflicted irritations) Then I ran into the grocery store the other day to grab a few things fast – (yeah right, $34.97 later, which means I spent like $7.00 a minute-groceries add up quick) I had specifically chosen a box of relatively grainy/healthy instant oats because of the coupon stuck on the front, saving me a whole $1.00 (wow). By the end of checking out, I was best friends with the cashier, giving her my hairdresser’s phone number, etc. and I completely forgot to see if she had utilized the coupon during check-out. So I got home and noticed the box with the coupon still attached…

I’m not about to spend a dollar worth of gas to drive back to the store to redeem my dollar coupon, and if that was the only time such a thing happened, no big deal. But if I added up all the instances when I was promised a dollar off and didn’t get it at the register, well…Grr. Then, this week I purchased a large economy-sized bag of whole wheat hamburger buns at the local discount market. I pulled out one of the inner bags from the big exterior bag, thought it strange that there wasn’t a place on the bag to properly open it ?!? and quickly ripped open the bag to get to the bread to make some sandwiches for my hungry sons… Then, a little later while I was cleaning up the lunch mess and putting everything away, I grabbed the bag of buns to tie the opening with a rubber band and guess what I found?

Birthdays are fun and moms tend to worry that a birthday be exceptional so that the child feels special and blessed and remembered. I’m that way to an extent, although I learned a long time ago not to blow the month’s grocery budget on a party or stress myself sick fretting about pomp and perfection for the reigning little king or queen that day. Most first-world kids have enough stuff and fluff on a daily basis to dwarf their already weak character and to build in them such a sense of entitlement they’ll be no good to anyone in future employment or marriage so why try so hard to ruin them to a greater extent with annual, pricey Birthday Extravaganzas?! Long sigh. Ooops got off the track a bit there…I’ll step down from my soap box now . So, as you know we’re on the road and my technical difficulties continue – even today – to build my character and hinder my blogging and communication efforts (Susan, Tim, Cindy, Cindy and Deborah I’m making every effort to answer you, truly! Argh I’ll explain later). We arrived to our destination the day before my son’s 17th birthday and with road-weariness, unpacking and move-in duties like blowing up air beds, finding a coffee pot to use-first things first buying and borrowing a few necessary supplies for life in our ‘tent’, although I had pondered ‘his day’ for weeks ahead of the occasion, I completely forgot to buy him a card or pick up the gift we’d planned to give him (money from an ATM ha ha. Big kids want cash). I awoke that day in the wee hours to a gorgeous sunny sky and quiet household, so I headed out for a power walk along the waterfront nearby when I realized THIS IS THE DAY. Oops. It’s arrival was so low-key I wondered if his siblings even remembered?! While I strode along the paved path, looking out across the massive blue waters dotted with sailboats and assorted watercraft, I texted the brothers and sisters a reminder and breathlessly phoned Daddy who gladly picked up the card and cash while he was out on more errands to purchase more ‘camping’ supplies to get us settled for our stay. (He’s the kind of guy who can build Rome in a day, so we became ’settled’ rather quickly!). Then, I left the rest of the ‘BIG DAY’ up to God. I couldn’t create a party, I couldn’t afford to buy bunches of stuff, I couldn’t breathe life into this normal day to make it special. I had to trust Him. So…I prayed for my boy and asked God to kiss his day with happy surprises.

The day moved ahead quickly and before I knew it, I found myself at a huge annual outdoor event in a nearby city park where countless booths were set up by restaurants for a feeding frenzy of international cuisine, carnival amusements and music playing on several stages. The sun shined without interruption upon those attending, making for glorious summer fun. Our sons all love music-most have taught themselves to play several instruments, have written songs for years and this year our older sons have begun writing and playing live music at all sorts of venues in the region. Lots of fun doors have opened up to them in the area, and that day they’d been given a great time slot on the key stage at the event. We were sitting in the sun, enjoying the show and suddenly the leader called out for our birthday boy – bringing attention to his birthday and inviting him to play the drums. He boldly flew up, joined in a 3-person drum ensemble with two of his brothers, and then was left alone to pull off an outstanding, impromptu solo, took a bow and the applause erupted. An unexpected, unplanned, happy surprise birthday gift from God. I sat there thinking, God does it right. He steals the show if we let Him.

Later that evening as we were closing out the day, a friend stopped by briefly. I thought, “He didn’t get a cake! I haven’t given him his card! No one sang to him! We can fix that…” So I went in the kitchen, stuck some candles in a frozen ice cream sandwich and we began singing the most pitiful ‘Happy Birthday to you…” he’s ever heard! I’m laughing again. Wouldn’t have mattered what I did by that time…God knows how to plan a real party!

My friend with lots of stuff had begun reading the Aslett book I gave her, was loving it, and called to say, “Ok, I’m ready to clear out the clutter. Come help.” My husband said he was thinking, that’s sort of like one alcoholic asking another alcoholic to “come help clear out the liquor cupboard ’cause I’m done drinking”.  Real funny, buster.   I do readily admit I’ve had extreme ‘pack-ratting’ issues in my past (see above photo of an actual Neotoma Cinerea – pack rat), but I’ve made some serious adjustments and I am now equipped to help other hoarders to become less encumbered. There are levels of hoarding. I’ve graduated from being extremely sentimentally attached to many things, saving clothes for 10 years ’til they fit again’, taking anything offered ‘free’ to me and keeping it forEVER,  to now regularly cleaning closets, drawers, files, coupons, magazines, refrigerators and freezers and monthly hauling boxes of discards to Goodwill and the dump.  I’m still given to filing too many ‘meaningful’ pieces of paper and memorabilia and keeping way too much stuff on my computer (one reason I’m dealing with technical issues…but we won’t go there right now …one battle at a time!)  So I arrived at my friend’s house with her favorite take-out food for lunch ’cause I figured any addict who’s attacking her adiction has to have some joy in life at the moment when she’s amputating.  For those of you streamlined, antiseptic personalities who have no issues with ’stuff’ piling up, you have to understand that our piles go waaaaaaay below the surface.  We are internally storing ‘valuables’ for various reasons whether we know it or not.  When my friend Cindy would suggest I liquidate any number of my valuables; ie., books, toys, tools…I could feel my chest pull along with the item she was removing from my storehouse. “Uuhh…uuum” I would eek out in protest. Yet knowing she was probably right, everything in me revolted at the thought of ‘losing’ something I might need in the future.  Now I realize that in ridding myself of layers of stuff I’m actually gaining so much more…peace in the atmosphere, time saved not arranging and hiding more things, release from the bondage of worrying about stuff, room to breathe in my house, space to live in, ease of organization of the things worth keeping and sweet freedom. Er, uh, most of the time. Big grin.

So after we ate our gourmet Vietnamese lunch…mmm, I applied for the job of cleaning out the fridge.  Knowing how a pack rat thinks, I imagined that the fridge holds the lesser of emotional ties in the scope of a home (boy was I wrong).  I promised only to toss those out-of-date items along with any containers containing less than an inch of  liquid or solid substances.  I WENT TO TOWN.  After gleefully filling 2 trash cans and washing down the entire inside of the refrigerator, I beamed with pride and a sense of accomplishment.  I had conquered the Kenmore!  I was joyous…until she walked by and lamented that I’d thrown out her children’s favorite condiment – gasp – and all of it’s 1/2 oz. remaining in the jar. She pulled it right back out of the trash bin and put it back in the gleaming refrigerator.  OMG.  She is me.  She was sort of pacing and trying ever-so-hard not to look at the bags for fear she’d see through them (never use transparent bags – always use black) and bemoan the loss of her favorites. I understand completely. “What waste!  We’re not going to recycle all that glass?! I feel guilty!”  All the well-meaning thoughts that run through a hoarder’s mind.  But she resisted and found victory.  One battle won.  One layer eliminated.  Good girl!

P.S.  I must confess I stopped by today and grabbed an entire grocery bag filled with home-improvement magazines she’s tossing for my hubby.  He’ll speed read those babies and they’ll be in a burn pile by Monday, I promise you. I will take nothing for myself, I will take nothing for myself, I will take nothing for myself…

As I’ve been telling you recently, we’re on the road. We’re currently staying in about a 1000 square feet. We brought with us, pretty much, the bare essentials. For me that means living with what I need, not everything I would prefer to have on hand. My sons begged me to pack light on this trip so there would be room in the car for their stuff, too! I’m laughing right now. They know their mother. I always have ’stuff’ around. Useful bags and papers and books and articles of interest or items of industry that I might need. It’s how I operate – my creative side demands resources in order to produce content and I hate to leave the house without them because “what if I need them for something important?” “What if I suddenly need to speak or write an article or encourage someone without my ‘tools’?” My husband on the other hand, is a very streamlined, commanding sort of guy and he’s insisted over the years that I learn to pack light. At first it seemed a cruel request of a woman with my personality and make-up, but soon I found it was a great exercise in self-control and brought PEACE to my life – and to my husband’s life, too. One trip in particular that comes to mind was three weeks in South Africa with my briefcase and small black roll-on suitcase. That’s it. I spread clothing items across the bed as I was planning what to take, er, what would FIT in the bag. One pair of shoes, two pair of pants, a couple pair of shorts, a few shirts, a couple pair of earrings, flip flops – all coordinating pieces that I wore in various combinations over the course of the trip. A teensy-weensy beauty bag and, well, you can imagine not much else. It became an adventure to see how many outfits I could create from the basics I’d brought along. Building up to the present time away, I’ve had lots of practice over the years carrying less than most Americans would tend to carry on trips. My jaw never fails to drop in disbelief to see what many women haul through airports. Enough clothes and shoes and beauty products for 2 months away, when they’re only staying a week! It’s pretty predictable to see a flustered woman at the head of the line at check-in, engaged in a battle of ‘making the suitcase weigh less than 50 pounds’, whipping out stuff and jamming it into her giant feed-bag-style purse to carry on. I’ve yet to see a man in that scenario, unless he’s the embarrassed husband! It occurred to me the other day what peace and contentment I’m feeling in my small spaces with limited resources, at the present. A few plates, cups, dishes. Just enough furniture. Less to clean, less options, much less clutter to deal with. Simplicity. I just handed one of my favorite books to a couple of friends. It’s called Clutter’s Last Stand by Don Aslett. He writes an entire philosophy on buying less, keeping less, packing less, hauling less, moving houses with less…and how it not only enhances your surroundings, but your mental and emotional state and interpersonal relationships. It’s very convincing and has inspired me to make lifelong adjustments toward more peace and less chaos. One quote from the book that will never leave me is this: “Don’t love anything that can’t love you back.” That’s a profound statement about our ’stuff’ and the place it should hold in our hearts. I’ll always be endeavoring to streamline since it’s not my strong muscle, and tools like Don’s book assist me in my efforts. Perhaps you’re like me and need help in this area. Dream big but start small. Attack a closet, the fridge, a misc. kitchen drawer, underneath a bed, the medicine cabinet…and begin to purge. It will fuel you for more ruthless attack on your clutter. Freedom comes! Right now I’m enjoying living light.

While experiencing technical difficulties on the road over the past couple of weeks with computers, connections, blogging, emailing, etc., it’s been necessary for me to pull the plug on all the cyberstuff time and again and just ‘go with it.’ It’s not easy for me, but if I don’t, ‘all things wired’ distract me from LIVING, loving and doing the really important stuff. Psalm 62 has been such a key passage for me lately, “For God alone my soul waits in silence…” I can’t find God, hear God or truly meet with God unless I find a place of silence, and in my world, silence is a rare circumstance these days. Silence=the absence of sound. THE ABSENCE OF SOUND! Yeah, right! It’s a battle for me to find a place of silence every day to meet with God, unless I get up really early before all the noise – and that’s not always possible. If one of our phones isn’t ringing, or my cell beeping with a text or an email message begging for an answer, then someone is hungry, or grumpy or demanding, or a musical instrument is playing, doors are banging, neighbors clanging, dogs barking, you know the story. This is a snapshot of a place I’ve found to hide away during my travels. Sometimes I stretch out on the grass in the sun with my Bible. There’s a bird perched on a high branch who greets the morning with a tin-whistle song every single day. If I miss the morning, then I put in my earplugs (worth their weight in gold), shut out all the clatter…and suddenly, God is there. Let’s endeavor to create a place for God in our crazy, loud, wired world! He is our LIFE. Thanks for stopping by.