Comfortable Clutter

There was only a tiny path to the door.
The walls seemed to be closing in on her.
It used to be much wider, was all she said to herself.
How did it get this bad?

Life happened.
Trials.
Problems.
Issues.

Responses to life happened.
Anger.
Bitterness.
Resentment.

It wasn’t always this way.

She had faith.
She prayed.
She gave it all to God.

And then she took it back.
She carried it again.
She carried the original burden and then piled on the guilt for carrying it.

But no one could see.
No one could know.
Her house looked clean and neat on the outside.

It looked pretty on the outside.
But inside was imploding.
Inside it was as if someone was squeezing the house to wring out the debris.

She didn’t even know what caused the problem.
She used to know.
She was able to tell anyone and everyone who would listen.

Her script; her story.
Nothing changed.
Beginning, middle, and end always the same.

She was never bored with the story.
It defined who she was.
Everyone had something and she had this; so there.

She sought out other people whose houses were imploding.
They never asked each other what to do about the walls.
They just accepted that they were there and adjusted the furniture accordingly.

But the feeling of being squeezed was getting a bit uncomfortable.
The furniture was beginning to become misshapen.
The floors were beginning to buckle.

Still she persisted in her right to hoard her debris.
She reserved her right to stash her burdens all around her.
There was comfort in knowing they were around.

After a while, people no longer saw her for who she really was.
She became the woman whose house looked as if it was wearing a belt.
A belt that was being pulled tighter and tighter in the middle.

Constricting.
Painful.
An old friend who had stayed too long.

One day the doorbell rang.
She stumbled as she made her way to the door.
She didn’t even know what she stumbled over.

So much cluttering her path.
So much getting in her way.
Where was the door?

By the time she reached the door, it was too late.
Whoever it was, had gone.
She was alone.

Alone with all the things she had given to God but taken back.
Why doesn’t God just take all of this away?
Then my path would be clear.

She stumbled back trying to find her favorite chair so she could sit down.
It was somewhere; buried under all the things she could not release.
Once she found her chair, it was terribly uncomfortable.

Misshapen.
Lopsided.
Resting crookedly on the floor that had buckled.

The woman whose house looked as if it was wearing a belt was imploding herself.

Humble yourselves therefore under God’s mighty hand that He may lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you. Be self-controlled and alert. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know your brothers throughout the world are undergoing the same kind of sufferings. And the God of all grace, who called you to His eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered for a little while, will Himself restore you and make you strong, firm, and steadfast. To Him be the power for ever and ever. Amen. (1 Peter 5:6-11)

She got to work.
She was tired of this.
Tired of stumbling and hitting her shins on the piles of burdens she gave and took back.

She bought the largest trash bags she could find.
She began to purge and clean.
She filled bag after bag of the burdens that she had already thrown away once.

Once.
Twice.
Thrown them away too many times to count.

Today was the day.
Today they will be cast away.
Never to be found again.

She knew it.
She was certain.
Today would be different.

Already the belt around her house loosened.
Already the buckled floors seemed to go back into place.
Her misshapen, lopsided chair looked comfy and inviting once again.

All the what-if’s flooded her mind.
Who am I without all of this around me, was her biggest fear.
She had grown so used to the clutter.

She didn’t know what freedom felt like.
She didn’t know how clear the path could be.
She didn’t know.

Perhaps she knew, but she didn’t really believe.
Perhaps she wanted the freedom, but not as much as she thought.
Until today.

Today was different.
With trash bags piled high, she searched.
There He was.

He had been there all along.
She just couldn’t see Him through all the rubble.
There He was with love and compassion in His eyes.

Not a hint of condemnation.
Not of hint of disappointment.
A knowing look that told her she was fully known.

He held out His hand.
She handed Him the first trash bag.
He threw it away, far away, never to be seen again.

He held out His Hand, ready for the next one.
Yes, now it will be different.