My elderly cousin died Wednesday night. I went to her funeral today. The church was packed. Everyone from teenagers to old people were grieving. The funeral singers couldn’t sing because of their grief. The preacher got choked up talking about her and almost couldn’t go on. Everyone was talking about her many kindnesses, how she helped so many people, touched so many lives–in spite of various infirmities and having so little in the way of financial resources.
I kept remembering how I always felt so welcome when I visited her in the house she shared with her sister, and how much I was going to miss knowing that welcome and encouragement was always there. Then, her nephew got up to speak about her, and he mentioned that when they’d gone into her little bedroom, you could pack up every worldly possession she owned, and it would fit into the trunk of a normal size car…with space left over.
And I thought–ahh, so that was part of her secret. She lavished her time on all of us, instead of investing it in things. Then I came home and read the Saturday FlyLady rant about our clutter sucking the life out of us, and agreed with all my heart. I believe there is a direct correlation between the clutter (of all kinds) in our lives and the good, kind things we never have the time to do.
I have a goal now that reaches beyond the occasional 27 fling boogie (although that’s a good start.) I’m wondering if it might be possible even for a pack-rat like me, to come to the end of my life with only enough possessions to fill the trunk of a car…but with a church and community packed with people whose lives I’ve touched.
Limping along, in Ohio