Basement Junk

By Carol Davis

You never really know how much junk you have in your basement until you start cleaning it out.

Old paint cans. Boxes of stray kitchen utensils. Blankets and sheet sets for beds that no longer live at my address.

Junk.

Stuff that seemed so important at the time the packing of the boxes took place. But, now, they just take up space. Not really space that I need. Just clutter that I don’t.

Stop right here. I’m not a clean freak. This bug bites me about once every five years. But, when it bites, it bites hard. I would die if you saw my basement right now. In fact, I don’t have any friends that I really trust enough to see my junk.

I’m learning a valuable life lesson from my junked up basement.

I’m a stuffer. I don’t deal with things at the moment. I find a way to laugh when I want to cry and stuff the problem way down deep. I will deal with it later. Why waste an opportunity to laugh? So, down to the basement it goes. Until someone finds the way through the door and stands in the middle of my junk and says, “Why do you keep all this stuff?”

That happened recently.

Scared me to death. Honestly, I didn’t even know half of that junk was down there.  I braved the walk down the stairs and took a look around. What I found was not pretty. Old emotions that were yellowed and worn. Hurt that was quietly growing in the corner. A past that no longer fit the woman I am trying to be. Space that was created for more. Cluttered by the less than life.

Everything in me wanted to run away, back to the safety and laughter of today and slam the door, lock it tight. But, that’s the problem. Stuff in the basement is not out of sight out of mind. It is always looming like a tenant that shows up just when you want to be alone. The noise that interrupts your quiet. The darkness that threatens your light.

Sometimes, it takes somebody surprising you and showing up in your basement, to realize you need to tidy up a bit. The trust issues that block the door lose the fight and your junk makes it’s way to the top floor.

Some people will judge your junk. Others will pilfer through it and try to find something they can use. Most will run away and be frightened by your junk. A few may even try to bring over some of their junk.

But, God loves me and all my junk. Especially that which I’ve tried to hide in a blue Rubbermaid tote in the corner. He’s not afraid to lift the lid. Honestly, he already knows what’s in there. And, He’s willing to help me and you sort through and decide what goes and what stays.

But, you gotta open the door…

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