The Purge

I don't think that I've mentioned it officially on this blog yet, so it would probably be worth stating outright that my family is moving this summer.

...from the Great State of TEXAS to ALASKA!!!

I should also mention that we are planning to do the 4000+ move in 14 days, riding together in a diesel truck with our two dogs, hauling a 16ft trailer with our other vehicle loaded on the back of it, all through Canada on the Alcan Highway. Y'all, if I haven't earned the title of "Crazy Woman Driver" by now, then I don't know how I ever will.


(We are less than 30 days away from moving day, and I *might* only have a half of my sanity left as I write this post. Just so you know.)

There's so much to do and to plan for any move, regardless of distance or destination.
Cancelling services, scheduling all of the necessary dentist/doctor/vet/haircut-with-the-lady-who-finally-knows-what-I-want appointments, scheduling movers, planning going away parties with kids' friends and last dinners with our friends, reserving hotels, researching a whole new city, finding a suitable home, registering kiddos in new schools...
But none of these things stress me out as much as sorting through all the stuff in our house and deciding what is moving on with us and what is going away.

I would like to think that this past decade as a military spouse has made me pretty good at filtering through our stuff, but I know that I'm not. Maybe it's because we started out with absolutely nothing, or maybe I'm just overly sentimental, but I remember the who's and how's and why's almost every single thing in my house--and that always makes it really hard to let any of those things go.

The frugal person in me doesn't want to throw out that thing that I spent x amount of dollars on and only used one time.
The resourceful person in me doesn't want to get rid of anything that might not be exactly right for the space, but could probably still work okay if I tweaked it a bit or just made due.
The practical person in me dreads getting rid of anything that I know would immediately need to be replaced.
The anxious person in me doesn't want to throw out anything that may be useful even one time in my new home.
The deeply emotional person in me can't bear to part with the sweet gift a friend/family member gave me but I can't use anymore...

And the wanderer in me wants to get rid of absolutely everything and start fresh.

So basically, I'm a mess.

A couple weeks ago my mind was becoming overwhelmed by all the unknowns of this upcoming move and all of the figuring out I still had to do when this verse brought me back:

"Everything is permissible," but not everything is beneficial. "Everything is permissible," but not everything builds up." (1 Corinthians 10:23 CSB)

Now, I'm not saying this verse was written to help choose the things that need to stay and go inside of our homes, but it is helping me sort through my stuff just the same.

First of all, these things that I keep stressing over...it's all just stuff. And better yet, it's all permissible. It's all already been counted and approved by the moving company. Even if I can't sort through it all before it's moving day, it will be okay. It can all come.

But as I do my sorting, I ask myself these questions:

Is it beneficial?
Does it help build me up?

If it is not useful or edifying, then I don't need to take it.

Sometimes the things that I need to get rid of are very clear. I always have a pile of old magazines tucked away somewhere that were fun to look at once, but I know don't need to come along. There are clothes that don't fit or flatter me anymore. There are sheer curtains that helped me enjoy the sunny days in Texas, but are not going to do me a lick of good in the never-ending summer days in Alaska. These things won't benefit me at all in my new home. They might have been nice for a season, but now are only going to choke out pounds of our family's weight allowance.

Sometimes getting rid of things takes more careful consideration. There are the kitchen tools that would probably be nice to have, but I don't know how to use. There are kid toys and trinkets that are fully functional (and perhaps even valuable) but serve absolutely no real purpose for us anymore. There was a beautiful guitar that I carried around with me for eight whole years before I could finally admit to myself that I would never play it enough to justify bringing it along. I can keep carrying these things around with me to store them in cabinets where they will sit and collect dust, or I can release them to people who might truly benefit from them.

And not just sometimes, but every single time, I am shocked by the amount of straight-up garbage that gets collected in my home throughout the years. These are things that I broke and I meant to fix, but didn't--or maybe decided wasn't worth the effort. These are things that I didn't feel like sorting through in the moment and then just left to keep piling up in the nooks and crannies of my home. These are even things that at one point in my life I believed were worth an actual investment of my time, and money, and space, but are now just plain old, useless junk. These are the things that nobody wants or needs, and I just watch in horror as they pile up in my garbage can, wondering, "How did I ever let all of this sneak in??"

It's tiresome work going through the rooms in my house, sorting through items one by one, and deciding their fate. Probably the hardest part of motivating myself to do it is that I know I don't really have to. Like I said--it's all permissible. It's all been accounted for, whether I sort it or not.
But *I know* not all of it is beneficial. Not all of it builds up.

I have to keep sorting, because whatever I take with me has to have a place to go in my new house. If I bring it with me, then I have to figure out somewhere to put it. One of the lessons I've learned is that our "stuff" takes up valuable space--whether it's valuable or not. The worst thing to put in a new home is your old junk.


So friends, this is me rooting for you as you hunt out the good stuff and purge all the rest.
(And celebration that one day this wanderer really will get rid of everything and start fresh.)



Pray for me as I keep plugging away at my junk. And for the 4000 mile journey ahead. And that this Texas girl survives Alaskan winters---Because y'all. Heaven, help me.