pride of place
Over the past few weeks, I’ve been in a state of extreme transition. I moved cross country, then set my mind to creating my home. I’m thrilled to say I truly organized things well and got every last cardboard box out of my home.
This time, I moved into 575 square feet — the smallest home I’ve had since I lived in 400 square feet in seminary (it was worth it to go to seminary, but I wouldn’t choose it again, lol). The places I’ve lived since seminary have ranged from being 2 bedroom apartments, to a 3 bedroom house on a golf course, to one bedroom large apartments, etc.
My new home, however, is a small studio. I have a bedroom area, which fits the essential bedroom items nicely, but it doesn’t have a door. Otherwise, I have a hallway of storage closets and a laundry room, then one large room that houses everything but the bathroom — full kitchen, dining/work table with 2 chairs, coffee table, antique credenza, desk with storage, rocking chair, tea cart, bar cart for my NA bevvies, and soon it will also have a loveseat.
When I was driving to Nashville, I began to worry that when I got here, I’d be disappointed. After all, I had toured 6 apartment complexes in 48 hours, all the way back in February. Had I even remembered this one accurately? Plus, when they tour you, they show you the model — an apartment furnished to make you want to live there, and chosen because it gets the best natural light. So, after surviving tumultuous months, trying to remember a dizzying array of apartments, and seeing a sales pitch not a home, what if I walked into my apartment and felt disappointed? (This is a more rational fear than you might think, as I know many friends who have showed up to their apartments to discover their home is not nearly as nice as the model.)
Since the drive is almost 13 hours, I had quite a lot of time to worry about this. However, when I walked into my apartment, I looked around and — I loved it. Even though I lost a considerable amount of square feet, and I’d moved into a place structurally quite different, I loved it. Unpacking was stressful — imagine all my things AND all the boxes trying to coexist in 575 square feet — but once I played home organization Tetris with all my things, and made sure all my boxes went to people from the Buy Nothing group, I was able to look into my apartment and love it again.
I felt similarly when I moved the last time, as I downsized from 900 square feet to 625. I keep being shocked by how much I enjoy living in smaller spaces. Does it take work to organize? Sure. Do I really, really need to clean my kitchen counter every evening because my kitchen counter is in my living room? Absolutely. Do I need to load all the dishes into the dish washer because, I don’t know if you knew this but, my sink is also in my living room? Yes, I need to do that.
But it feels worth it, because I don’t feel so overwhelmed by things. I think back to the times in my life when I had 2 or 3 bedrooms, how there always ended up being a “storage room.” Storage for what? If it’s going to end up gathering dust in a bedroom I don’t use, do I need to own it at all?
The flip side is very real — needing something I know I donated to Goodwill within the year… Womp womp. While I’m enjoying the process of decluttering, these moments are helping me think differently about how I declutter. Sometimes, in a fit of “I’m sick of extra things” I have donated things that I realized, once a new season came back around, were actually quite helpful, just not then. So while I’m loving the process of downsizing, I realize how important it is to, in equal measure, take a higher level look at what needs to go and what needs to stay, so I don’t end up both buying things and donating them on an annual basis.
All this is to say: Moving as many times as I have over the years (too many times) has helped me shed a lot of the things that aren’t meaningful for me, which allows the things that are meaningful for me to be within arms length, not hidden behind the excess of impulse purchases. This process keeps helping me figure out what I need in this life, what is helpful, what is sentimental, what is worth pride of place in my square feet.
I think of this as a spiritual practice, an act of stewardship, because I have limited space and I’m discerning what is worthy to receive the energy it takes to let these things live in my home. In many ways, my home is like an altar, where I am received in the day to day realities of my life. If we are to believe that the mundane realities of every day are holy, because the presence of the Spirit is with us in them, then the space in my home is holy ground.
As I look into this new space, I am asking myself — What’s worthy of being with me on this holy ground? What deserves pride of place in my life?
(It won’t surprise you that this isn’t just about possessions, but it is definitely about possessions.)
I pray you may be able to look into the holy ground of your life — whether it is your home, or another place where you are a steward of its space — and discern what is worthy of being with you in it. May you be given the strength to release what needs to go, and hold to what needs pride of place in your life. And may you be blessed by what surrounds you.
With love & care,
EJW
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