Item by item.
I fill a bag with jigsaws,
progress, I tell myself.
Slow, but progress.
Each item I pick up has memories attached.
Woven into each fibre,
embedded into each cell,
yet visible only to those who look through the lens of history.
I pick up a child's pretty long sleeve t-shirt, complete with pin tucks and beads.
It doesn't seem that long since it was worn,
but it is now much too small.
Logic speaks to me with words of calm wisdom
"You have no need of these things,
they just fill space. They no longer fit. Let them go."
Compassion adds a voice "Others can make good use of them, let them go."
Sentimentality spins sugary snares
Fear fights "No-one else will value that top..."
Logic strikes back "That is irrelevant. It is not any use to you anymore"
Logic wins and that item makes the swift journey into a bag for the charity shop, followed quickly by most of the rest of the pile.
I hang the washing on the line.
Within a few minutes,
raindrops echo the sorrow within my heart, pouring out the anguish and pain
that is within me.
Seconds late the metrological mood has lifted and the sun is shining brightly,
reminding us that these are the final days of April and are as changeable as my moods.
Like the weather, I switch between optimism and pessimism.
The KHT decides that some labels would help.
"Virtual reality" is the preferred destination of this item...
I decide to join in the fun...
Tin - "empty"
Now what shall we put in there...
Vitamin tablets - label the full tube...
as opposed to the half full tube....
just because I can...
This is the diary that I never remember to write things in, so it is embarrassingly empty....
Clothed in red to identify its shame...
In case you didn't realise this reel of sellotape is empty.
The KHT points out that it isn't real....
Another day of highs and lows, of sifting and sorting,
The war will be won, but each day is a battle.
The present may feel rather empty and painful, but the future is far from empty, and on that I will focus, when hopefully my heart will soon be the way it is meant to be...
Ready to be turned upside down again by God,
for the things He cares about,
not the insignificant trivia of sorting domestic chaos!