Order in the Midst of Chaos

Packing has overtaken our home.  There are boxes everywhere.  The calendar reads two weeks and counting until the big day.  And because I’m a fairly organized person, I even packed the gloves, hats and scarves.  I was quite certain that Denver wouldn’t see it’s first snow until the end of this month.  Well, it’s predicted for Saturday.

But that’s not really the problem.  The problem lies in the Great Abyss.  It’s a room in our house where all things clutter end up.  It’s like the mouth of a beautiful river that doesn’t have such a beautiful ending.  You might have one of these rooms too.  It would make me feel better if you did, so please nod and agree.

I would love to tell you it’s a storage room, or a section of the basement, or better yet the crawl space.  But, sadly, it’s my nine-year-old, Izzy’s bedroom.

It harbors all things stuffed, tiny and junky.  I even found “pretty” rocks, (i.e. from our backyard) and seashells wrapped in toilet paper that were securely tucked in Subway kids meal bags.

It’s the room I’ve been putting off packing for weeks.  If there is a packing angel, please send her, Jesus, I prayed.

At promptly 1 p.m. yesterday I told the Keeper of All Clutter that we were going to clean out and pack up most of her room.  She was all in.  In fact at 1:05 I found her in a sea of dumped out bins.  She was sorting and throwing away…. It was a site to behold, really.  We worked hard.  With a trash bag full of expired hotel keycards, Happy Meal toys, Kindergarten schoolwork, and questionable artwork, we carried it outside and tossed that baby. There was nothing to save.  Trust me, Good Will wouldn’t even take the stuff we threw away.

We were pleased with our work.

This morning though, not so pleasing.  Izzy was in a rotten mood.  At one point, I even suggested she climb back in bed and restart the morning all over again.  This time, try getting out the other side of the bed.  That’s when the tears flowed.

I’m just so stressed, Mom.  I hate my room looking like this.  I hate the boxes all around me.  It makes me stressed.

My heart sank.  My little clutter bug does need order.

Perhaps she finds order and structure amidst all the things I refer to as junk.  And now, thanks to me, her little, secure world has been turned upside down.

We talked through it.  She cried, and I wiped tears.   Together we determined that Izzy does like to be clean.  She likes to have things tidy, but she also finds beauty in rocks and broken seashells from a beach trip two years ago.  She feels safe in a bedroom full of stuffed animals.  That’s just who I am, Mom.

It’s not me.  It’s not what order and tidiness look like to me.  And Yes, I’m her mom.  And yes, I could make her change her ways.  But why?  Why change what works for her and makes her feel secure in her nine-year-old world?

I’m learning that sometimes training up a child means letting go of the little quirks that get on my nerves, because someday, in the not so distant future, there will be bigger things to let go.

God help me!