I love the circus.
Except for the dreaded plate-spinning act that I talked (whined) about here.
Except for that, I love the circus.
Even the clowns.
A lot of people are unnaturally afraid of clowns. I wonder why…
Were they terrorized by Bozo at an early age? Do they fear oversized shoes and bulbous red noses? Is their uncle named Chucky?
I like clowns because I enjoy watching people make fools of themselves – (on purpose, that is). Clowns make me laugh – laughing is good.
Do you remember the circus act where a teeny, tiny car comes out – and clown after clown after clown comes pouring out? I could never figure that out as a kid. Later on I discovered that a mathematical impossibility can indeed become a magical illusion.
But I digress.
The circus clown car act is on my mind today – because my house has become one.
The boxes…and boxes…and boxes – the sheer volume of stuff should not (mathematically) have been able to fit into my smallish house.
And yet, the boxes keep on coming…
I'm wondering if there is a Good Fairy who (magically) keeps making more and more boxes in the middle of the night when I'm sleeping…or does cardboard harbor a recessive "rabbit" gene?
At one point I wondered if "The Hub" was doing it. But of course, silly me, if he was involved in the whole process the boxes would disappear!
God is teaching me some good lessons through all of this – (notice I said good, not easy…just sayin')
First of all, uprooting 28 years and moving two hours away (by yourself) is a challenge…BIG challenge.
And I have been humbled by the sight of my dear and hard-working husband laboring under an unending onslaught of stuff – which is mostly mine, to tell the truth. You see, I've been in this house for 28 years – he's only been here for 7.
And I've been convicted.
I have way too much stuff.
Don't get me wrong – "The Hub" and I have some really cool stuff – and I think it's fine to accumulate things that make you feel at home in your home – stuff that stamps your own personality on the place you live. It's all the other stuff – the things that I probably don't need, but just can't seem to part with…
That's the part I've been thinking about.
Some people are really good about periodic *weaning* – not me. I still have the heartbeat of a hoarder inside of me. I get way too attached to my things – and my things get way too attached to me.
I am guilty of having emotions attached to temporal things.
Lord, I hear You speaking on this.
None of this is going with me. None of it matters in the long run. None of it is eternal.
Yes, I have my treasure in Heaven – but I've got a hefty little stash here on the other side, too.
Once we get all settled in (early 2013, hmmm??!) – I need to attend to this. It's time to let go of things…
And maybe it's a time for God to do some spiritual housekeeping, too.
I remember reading "The Voyage of the Dawn Treader" by C. S. Lewis. At the beginning of the story, a rather distasteful young boy named Eustace steals away from the rest of the group, and comes upon the treasure of a dying dragon.
When the dragon breathes his last breath, Eustace revels in the treasure. Until he discovers the next day that he himself has turned into a dragon.
He tries and tries to peel, scratch, claw off those old scales by himself. And they come off – sorta. But he still remains a dragon.
It is only when Aslan comes along, the great and terrifying Lion, that Eustace is saved from himself.
Because the Lion painfully (but oh so wonderfully) removes the scales, by tearing at the heart of the matter – and Eustace becomes a boy again.
"Then the lion said – but I don't know if it spoke – You will have to let me undress you. I was afraid of his claws, I can tell you, but I was pretty nearly desperate now. So I just lay flat down on my back to let him do it.
The very first tear he made was so deep and I thought it had gone right into my heart. And when he began pulling the skin off, it hurt worse than anything I've ever felt. The only thing that made me able to bear it was just the pleasure of feeling the stuff peel off.
And there was I as smooth and soft as a peeled switch and smaller than I had been."
So, I'm thinking –
Maybe it's time to let go of some of the treasure.
Maybe it's time for me to shed some of my gnarly old scales.
It's going to hurt – (and trust me, I'm now beginning to feel the sadness, the anxiety, the unsettled uncertainty of the move) – but I know that somehow there is something really good awaiting me on the other side.
God is going to make me something new.
He is going to make me smaller than I have been – and in the process He will show me how big He is.
Is He big enough?
Oh, I think so…yes, indeed, I think so!
(Please come back on Wednesday, for some more lessons God is teaching me in this final week of moving...)
Is God big enough for you?
Linked with Joan at SHARING HIS BEAUTY
BLOG = "Blessedly Leaning On God!"