Organization is a strength of mine. Give me time and I can probably figure out a quick way to accomplish a given task. Maybe it was because my dad was a Marine, but very early on I caught on to the whole concept of divide and conquer. I knew that if you broke any challenges up into smaller tasks eventually you could overcome. Figuring out the next step to take was usually the most challenging part. Once you had that covered, the rest usually fell into place.
Because I’m such a big fan of organization, I’m not a fan of stuff. Stuff clutters. Stuff gets in the way. And stuff makes organization more difficult. Organization, like a lot of things in life, benefits from simplicity. For example, the person who is always behind schedule is usually not that way because that’s how they want to be. Usually they’re running behind despite all the best intentions of getting everything done that they wanted. Whether it’s an actual material possessions or its unnecessary activity, stuff has ruined their plans. Planing (another one of my favorite activities) can usually prevent a lot of tardiness, but the best of plans break down for lack of organization or the abundance of too much stuff.
Yet despite my aversion to stuff, I find myself placing way too much importance on it. The silliest things can cause me concerns. Today, I came home and was missing a bowl. And despite knowing that the value of this bowl was extremely negligible, not knowing where it was bothered me. Not because i was worried that I might have to replace it. No, I was worried because it was “mine” and I didn’t know where it was. I couldn’t account for its absence – and since it wasn’t a camera or an ATM card there was little chance that I had lost it – and I immediately felt my sense of possession increase. MY bowl was missing – and that meant there was something wrong in the world.
And there was something wrong. But not what I originally thought. What was wrong was that I wasted so much time even thinking about it, when I ache so little for the person begging on the street. What was wrong was that I searched for the bowl, when I don’t spend the time to call a friend in need. And what was wrong was that I had even bothered to figure out that the bowl was missing, when I can’t be bothered to count the number of friends who don’t know their Savior. It wasn’t the missing bowl that was the problem, it was my focus on it.
Everything in this life is going to end up as dust or in the dumpster. Every THING. And I would no sooner take the time to organize the things in my trash than I would try to categorize dust bunnies. And yet its my things that I feel ownership of. It’s my possessions that create a sense of entitlement.
Thank God He didn’t give me what I was entitled to. Maybe I can give up everything else that’s mine too.
