The Basement Excavation: Pushing through the Wall

Often when we go on a diet, we lose a lot of weight in the first couple weeks. The first ten pounds are pretty easy, although we have worked hard at the new habit of either not eating or eating healthier. It's great! We are proud of ourselves with good reason. We're making progress. It makes us want to keep going, to lose more but then something happens. Our body slows down the weight loss. The needle on the scale doesn't move. We hit the dieting wall. We work just as hard but with less results. Sigh!

Clearing my basement has been like going on a diet. It's been hard and it's been rewarding up to a point. At first it felt like I was making progress, emptying boxes. But as the days rolled on, it got harder. Four weeks into my 2-box-a-day commitment it began to feel like nothing was happening at all. I kept doing the work but it kept feeling messy, lost and confusing. Like the kid in the back seat, I kept wanting to ask, "Are we there yet? when are we going to get there?" Ugh! I have some days where I just wanted to close the basement door and forget it. Then I got sick with a cold this last week and that about undid the whole thing for me. Like in the beginning I would walk down the stairs, look around and then just come right back up. I really needed some new energy.

Fortunately for me a solution presented itself. Our son and daughter-in-law (Karl & Erica) live nearby. They are working on a project at their house too so we decided to do an exchange of help. So yesterday I got my burst. For the first time since I started the project, we were able to move furniture around and begin to create the new areas. We also did some deep cleaning as we moved things. The result makes the clearing much more real. Now when I look around, I can see the open spaces. It feels good. It feels like I might have actually done something. I still feel the burden of how much is left to do but I feel a renewed sense of commitment.

We will over time meet several walls in our lives. Some of these walls will be "dark nights of the soul." Some will just be piles of  laundry or bills to pay. I confess there have been times when I sensed a wall and just turned myself around and went a different direction. It's hard to go through the walls, be in the discomfort long enough, sweat a few drops, get dirty and weary. But we don't necessarily have to do it alone. We can get help. It is amazing how much easier it is to push through that wall when we have someone willing to stand next to us, to be in it with us.

I pray that you will have someone willing to stand with you when you face your wall.

love, jules

The Basement Excavation: Facing Grief and Finding Treasure

The Basement Excavation—Day #17

So far I’ve been faithful to my commitment to go through two boxes each day. There is a growing stack of empty boxes in one corner. I hope that empty stack continues to grow but not every box gets thrown. Though clearing is the ultimate goal, throwing it all out is not the immediate goal. The idea is to go through everything, taking the time to painstakingly acknowledge all of it and get a grip on the reality of what IT really is.

In some cases, I’ve been able to throw a whole box right away. I am grateful for those easy ones, where the choice is obvious. In others, I’ve opened, looked through a few things and said, “Okay, I’m not ready for that one until later.” This is an acceptable response but I know eventually I will have to deal with those too. And then there have been those moments of profound encounter with something deep within.

Case #1: A gift from Dad

Two weeks ago, on a Saturday, I was leading a writing workshop on journaling. As part of my presentation I told those who came about what I had learned from my dad about the Lord’s Prayer. I was telling them how he used to encourage people to use the Lord’s Prayer to pray about specific things in their life. The next day I am down in the basement. I open a box and sitting right on top is the old Lutheran Standard article which my dad wrote about just that. With tears of gratitude I grabbed the article, and closed the rest of the box (for now). It was if Dad was encouraging me, letting me know he was happy to share this gift with me. I scanned it into my computer for future reference and to save it in new way. I have no idea what will happened to that article in the next generation but by then I will have shared it with many and the ripples will be enough inheritance to share.

Case #2: Encountering Hans 15 years later

Just a few days ago, I had a really busy day but in the free hour that I had I decided to suck it up and head down to do a few boxes. I saw an unmarked box in the middle of the room and wanted to have an idea what was in it. Initially unreachable, I climbed and squeezed in to where I could get a look. I opened the box and there was Hans’ stuff. As the tears started to form, I sifted through the random collection of junk. I have begun to notice that the more ridiculous the item, the more it triggers my grief. Why? Because the ridiculous stuff, the stuff that holds no intrinsic value is there only because my son cared about it. This box of apparent nothingness is classic Hans. And yet we still have to let go of most of it. Letting go brings a new wellspring of grief…that very really emotion as we experience the physical separation once again. I can’t express enough how physical grief really is.

Initially I find it odd and unsettling that such a box of junk can mean so much to me but there it is. Without the physical connection to my son, these stupid little things taking up space clearly give me a sudden material connection to the reality of my sons’ life before and now.

The sudden desire to speak to him, to see him in the flesh again is unbearable and the tears are unstoppable. This is the part of de-cluttering that takes more than determination and a good self-help book to conquer. This takes a breath and a prayer and some emotional support. Here I must stand with the grief, allow the tears and honor the pain as well as the joy. I may have to take a couple days to process before I am ready to let go. I may need to bring my husband alongside for this part of the journey. And even so, there is hope just in the fact that I am able to choose this work. 

Prelude to the Basement Excavation project.

Introduction: On February 10, Ash Wednesday, I made a commitment to dig in and clean out all the stuff in my basement. I've been putting it off for a long time and it seems like Lent is as good a time as any to make this attempt. I'm petrified and I'm determined. I thought I'd share some thoughts about the process along the way. If you believe in prayer or wishes, please send some courage my direction. Thanks, Jules

The Basement Excavation: Prelude

I take a few steps down, turn and go back up.
can I? once I start, will I have the strength? the courage to finish?
It will be an even bigger mess before I get to the good part.
I will have to face my grief, my nostalgia, my sentimentality.
I will have to face my tears.
Can I? Will I?
I really want to.
I really need to.
It feels like it is time.
I start down the stairs again, determined to go all the way down.
I wander around the boxes, overwhelmed as usual.
"Break it down" they always say as if it's that easy.
"Do it in small chunks" they say as if I even know what the chunks are.
"if you haven't used it in a year, you don't need it." they say, a saying which totally ignores all the precious relationships those things represent
People think stored stuff is just about cleaning.
It is much more than that.
No one tells you how to deal with the grief when it rises.
no one tells you how to let go.
It's like diving off the high dive.
I suspect I'll survive but I'm not sure it will feel as exhilarating as they say.
I open my first box and surprisingly find something I can toss right away.
There is hope.

God help me...
Here I go....beginning to uncover more than a decade of stuff buried in my basement.

I mean it God...Please help me!