Downsizing

After years of allowing our home to be hotel, hostel, and habitat, my husband and I are ready to simplify things a little bit by selling it.  We have often left an open invitation in our annual Christmas letters to come and see us, and “We’ll leave a light on for ya.”  That’s still true, but you’ll need to come see us in pairs instead of packs.  This Innkeeper is pooped.  While I have enjoyed the years of game nights (with the majority of my daughter’s class in our home!), the exchange students, hockey players, and Thanksgiving get-togethers, I’m finding it more and more difficult to tend to the housekeeping and get all my other work done too.  Less house should mean less work for me, right? That’s my hope anyway. 

But it’s the first time, in twenty-two years of marriage, that we’re building a house.  I have always balked at the idea of doing so, because I dread having to decide what knobs to put on the kitchen cupboards, what shape I want the towel rods in the bathroom to be, and if the corners of walls should be rounded or square.  I like the challenge of showing up, seeing a space for the first time, and slowly making it a home.  To help make the process easier I went to the library to get books on the best bedroom layouts, fantastic bathroom designs, and the most effective use of kitchen space.  I also searched Pinterest and googled images for ideas, and I have actually started to enjoy the process.

I noticed something; however, when I started leafing through all the books and such, that each beautifully decorated room was accessorized to the hilt.  I tend to have a cluttered mind, with a million thoughts traveling from synapse to synapse at warp speed, so I like my surroundings to have clean, un-cluttered horizontal surfaces.  Page after page of artful displays showed each table, dresser, night table, and armoire was real estate for staging vignettes.  Not one inch was left to set a glass down.  Not one table was cleared for puzzle assembly. 

Ever notice that this is how we tend to do life?

Every spare minute is filled with activity, either by active transport of our bodies or our attention.  I have witnessed my own family members playing games on cell phones during commercial breaks on TV.  This is time that I use to run and put a load of laundry in, hang clothes, fill the dishwasher, or run something upstairs.  I’ve always prided myself in being able to multi-task, or at the very least, use every minute wisely.  But does that mean I’ve really done a good thing?  Have I used every minute like the book designers have filled up every last inch?

If we get so used to the noise, when will we crave time seeking our Savior’s face?

And if we use up all the space of our lives on the inconsequential, when will we notice the needs of others?

Maybe we need to consider downsizing…in every area of our lives. 

Just make sure to leave room for people, and time for reflection.