Over time,
isolated systems of the entire universe
will always gravitate towards entropy,
or gradual decline into disorder.
– 2ndLaw of Thermodynamics
It’s that time of year again . . . the time when I look around and wonder how my home could have possibly gravitated towards such disorder. The messes in every corner of every room, the piles of things that I don’t know what to do with, the items I do need but can’t seem to find anywhere. I decide, here and now, that one of the priorities in the New Year will be to de-clutter. To bring some sort of order to this chaos. It is definitely time for a change!
The entropy, the decline into clutter, did not happen overnight, which means that it will not be tackled overnight either. This kind of decluttering project cannot be completed in a day. Or even a week. It will take time. There may be seasons when it gets overwhelming, the task before me much too big. But little by little, bit by bit, I will rejoice in the moments of progress. I will focus, unwavering and resolute on my goal of peace and order and, dare I say, joy in my physical spaces.
This is even more true for my mental spaces. I wonder how my mind could have possibly gravitated towards such disorder. The regrets and grief of yesterday’s failures, the anxiety of all of tomorrow’s unknowns, the ideas and dreams that I do want to focus on but my mind won’t rest long enough. I decide, here and now, that one of the priorities in the New Year will be to de-clutter my mind. To bring some sort of order to the chaotic thoughts. It is definitely time for a change!
Nearly seven months ago I wrote a blog post called When You’re Drowning. The very next day – literally less than 24 hours later – I drowned. Or at least, it certainly felt that way. Our family experienced a devastating blow that nearly destroyed me, a jolt that caused us, indirectly, to decide to end our foster care journey of 23 years. Maybe some day I will be able to tell the whole story, but suffice it to say that the circumstances were so heart-breaking and tragic, so completely life-changing, that I was overwhelmed with grief and loss, dangerously stuck in despair, utterly without hope. For the next six months, I lived in a sort of dark cloud, a fog that hung heavy all around me, and I honestly didn’t think I was going to make it. I am just now coming up for air, finding my feet again, coughing and sputtering on the other side. But even so, nothing will ever again be the same.
If I ever hope to move forward, if I am ever going to be find my mental equilibrium, I need to declutter all those awful thoughts that have kept me paralyzed. And if I’m going to tackle this inner project of mine, I need to be ruthless. Tidying expert Marie Kondo says, “There are two reasons we can’t let go: an attachment to the past or a fear for the future.” If this is true in our physical spaces, it is equally true in our mental spaces. Sometimes, it’s just hard to let go.
So what am I holding on to? What is the attachment to the past that is so difficult for me to let go? Mostly, I am feeling the loss of a significant part of my identity, the foster mama part, which is now gone. Eric Liddell, an Olympic gold-medalist in the 1924 Olympics, famously said, “God made me fast. And when I run, I feel His pleasure.” I can so relate to his sentiment! For almost half of my life, I have been a foster parent. I answered God’s call to care for the most fragile, the most vulnerable, the most forgotten children in our community. And when I was caring for them, rocking them to sleep, nurturing them to health and wholeness, there was nothing else I would rather be doing. I felt as if I was running the race that He had set before me, and I could feel His pleasure. With the loss of that role, with the loss of that calling, I feel, in a sense, the loss of His pleasure. The loss of purpose.
There are the choices that led us down a road that there is no going back from, and that now have life-long consequences for our “forever” kids. After all, when our family chose to embrace the broken, we knew that there was a good chance that we, including our own children, would inevitably bleed. There are no do-overs.
You know how, sometimes, you cry over a single detail, a seemingly isolated event, and then you end up crying buckets over everything else? It’s like, once the dam bursts, there’s no holding back the water. Grief can be cumulative like that. After saying goodbye to over 70 children who were such an integral part of our family, I now feel the cumulative grief. If little pieces of my heart kept breaking off each time a child left, how could that not eventually have a deep, irreparable impact on me? How can I ever be the same?
And when I look close enough, I find that I am holding onto the deep hurts and disappointments caused by people who don’t understand the unique struggles that our family has faced. The ones who don’t understand what it is like to raise someone else’s broken child. Foster parenting can be, if nothing else, a very lonely, a very isolating ministry.
So many attachments to the past that I am hanging onto! I have trouble letting go of them, I think, because letting go would mean admitting failure. My life, my relationships, my family, and the future I envisioned doesn’t look like I thought it would, and there is nothing I can do to change it.
However, in order to move forward, I need to leave the past in the past. There is no reason to hang on to the what-if’s or what-might-have-been’s. Forget the former things, do not dwell on the past; See, I am doing a new thing! I am making away in the desert and streams in the wasteland. (Isaiah 43:18-19) The loss, the grief, the choices, the hurts . . . they are in the past, and I cannot dwell on them. It’s time to let go of them, to discard them and no longer allow them to have such a prominent and powerful place in my mind. It’s time to move forward and look to the future. To look forward to the “new thing” that God has promised to do.
And in order to look forward, I first need to forget what is behind. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me.(Philippians 3:13) Somehow, by God’s grace and with His help, I need to forget what is behind me so that I can press on towards what is ahead. Towards the goal to which God has called me.
Looking to the future, however, is always accompanied by fear of all the unknowns. Many times in the past I have worried about things that never ended up happening. But not always. Now I know that sometimes terrible things, traumatic experiences, life-changing events – my worst nightmares! - can happen! So now I am tempted to live in fear. What if it happens again? Or next time, what if it is even worse? This time I almost drowned. What if next time, I really do drown?
What if God leads me to a place where I don’t want to go? To a challenge that is too difficult for me to face? To a task that is too hard for me to successfully accomplish? Or, what if He doesn’t lead me anywhere at all? What if I am left on the sideline, my usefulness, my life of ministry, over. The future, in any of it’s what-if scenarios, seems so impossible and bleak and frightening!
What do I do when these kinds of thoughts are racing and refuse to land? When I am feeling overwhelmed with the chaos and “clutter” of unarticulated fears, unrealized dreams, and unfinished goals? When I feel like I am drowning? It is then that I need to focus on the task at hand: resolving to discard the endless anxieties that help no one. At the first hint of “This is all too overwhelming!” or “I am such a failure” or the ever-present, “I can’t do this!” I need to let it go. Discard it. Those kinds of unnecessary thoughts will only lead to dark places, a discouragement that is too heavy to bear.
I need to remember that God has called me to a purpose, and that His plans for me are good. Yes, good! As my pastor J.D. Greear reminds us often, “In Christ there is nothing I can do that would make Him love me more, and nothing I have done that makes Him love me less.” I may have felt His pleasure when I was actively caring for the precious foster children in my home, but He didn’t actually love me more because of my service. And now that I am no longer in that specific role, now that I am grieving and facing the regret of past failures and the uncertainties of the future, He does not love me any less. Nothing – no calling or role or mistakes or decisions or hurts – can separate me from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus. These are the thoughts I need to keep.
And honestly? I may indeed face insurmountable circumstances again. My worst fears might actually happen. However, instead of dreading what could happen tomorrow, I can choose, today, to believe that God is with me: Do not be afraid . . . when you go through deep waters, I will be with you. When you go through rivers of difficulty, you will not drown. . . because you are precious to me, and I love you. Do not be afraid, for I am with you. (Isaiah 43:1-5) I may indeed face deep heartache and tragedies again in the future. I may indeed feel like I am way over my head and I can’t possibly survive. But I will choose to believe that, even in the deepest of waters, God is with me and He will not let me drown. These are the thoughts I need to keep.
Marie Kondo, the same tidying expert I mentioned before, has coined a phrase, sage advice to those who want to declutter their homes: ”Put your hands on everything you own, and ask yourself if it sparks joy.”
If that is good advice for decluttering my physical space, how much more should that be the deciding factor in my mental space as well! To “take every thought captive” (2 Corinthians 10:5), and ask myself if this is a thought that sparks joy. Those regrets and hurts and fears and anxieties and doubts that constantly crowd my mind . . . obviously, they don’t spark joy. I need to discard them.
The shelves are full of decluttering books with helpful advice for organizing our physical spaces. But there is an even better Book, one with vital, life-changing advice for organizing our mental spaces . . .
Be transformed by the renewing of your mind. (Romans 12:2) Left to my own devices, my mind will, over time, gravitate towards entropy. Towards chaos and decline. If I ever want to be transformed, it starts in my mind. It starts by letting go of fear, and making room for peace. For God has not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind. (1 Timothy 1:7) And this clear command, accompanied by a beautiful promise, my favorite promise in all of Scripture: Do not be anxious about anything . . .and the peace of God will guard your hearts and minds. (Philippians 4:6).
When I intentionally set my mind, when I purpose in my heart to let go of the fear and the anxieties – which are clearly not from God - what is left? A sound mind. Calm. Order. Peace. The opposite of disorder and chaos. How is that for a de-cluttering goal for the mind?
The entropy, the decline into disordered negative thinking, did not happen overnight, which means that it won’t be tackled overnight either. This kind of mental de-cluttering project cannot be completed in a day. Or even a week. It will take time. There may be seasons when it gets overwhelming, the task before me much too big. But little by little, bit by bit, I will rejoice in the moments of progress. I will focus, unwavering and resolute on my goal of peace and order and, dare I say, joy in my mental spaces.
The clutter has got to go! No more chaos and unnecessary debris weighing me down. It’s time for a change! It’s time to find joy!
Whatever is TRUE, whatever is HONORABLE,
whatever is FAIR, whatever is PURE, whatever is ACCEPTABLE,
whatever is COMMENDABLE, if there is anything of EXCELLENCE
and if there is anything PRAISEWORTHY -
Keep thinking about these things . . .
Then the God of peace will be with you. (Philippians 4:8-9)
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