“From now on 
those who buy something 
should live as if 
it were not theirs to keep …”

from I Corinthians 7:29,30

In May, at the townhouse in Urbana, Janelle came running to the top of the stairway, fearing I had fallen down it.

From the adjacent bedroom to hers, it is true, I had yelled “Ouch!” However, she found me not sprawled on the steps, but standing on both feet in the middle of almost empty room.

I was apologetic that I had caused alarm, for my exclamation was premeditated and uttered with complete self-control. There was good reason for yelling: It was painful looking my clothes. A simple wardrobe, yet all of it had to be given away.

We were wisely advised to not take “anything” with us when moving into the Airstream. The fibers of clothing and bedding could harbor unwanted mold spores and toxins which we certainly were trying to avoid going into our Safe Bubble.

What seemed particularly worthy of a loud “Ouch!” was parting with the dress and jacket purchased for Ben and Kara Smith's wedding, a glorious event we were privileged to witness just a few weeks previously. The outfit was an answer to prayer and not a few hours shopping.

Next to the closet of my soon-to-disappear wardrobe sat the Yamaha P140. For the past two years I had worshiped at this electronic piano and written songs of lament as well as songs of praise. Once this keyboard sold I would be a pianist without a piano. That is akin to not having any clothes to wear. It took all my self-control to hold back the tears.

“Why does this hurt so bad? I've been through this before. Several times already I've left everything I owned.”

“The most important things in life are not things.” I had learned this. I had found freedom in not having much, and cherishing what is truly most important. However after two and a half short years, I was enjoying gifts given and necessities purchased, with the silly expectation they were mine to keep.

“Mom, remember. They are only things, and you can't take them with you when you die.” Janelle's blunt wisdom helped bring me back to my senses. We've stated that truth to each other at needed times and she knew the reminder was necessary again..

“Thank you, O wise daughter of mine, you are right.” I relaxed. “This is a season. They are only things.” Together we embraced the joy of giving away what we had, and enjoyed rediscovering the simplicity of having less.

“There is a time for everything

and a season for every activity under the heavens:

...a time to keep

and a time to throw away...”

Ecclesiastes 3:1, 6