Each time I let go of physical objects on our journey of taking on our move only what fits in our two cars (
which has now become one, more on this in a future blog), I feel compelled to go back and give up more.
For example, I
jettisoned as many of my children's books as I thought I could give up before our house sold. Once here in our transitional, local rental apartment, I decided to go through them one more time before the move west. I was able to give up another box and a quarter of children's books. Proud of that accomplishment I tweeted a photo of the five remaining boxes. Those who know my love of children's literature and the artistry found in picture books can attest to the magnitude of that accomplishment. Yet, by the next morning, the nagging to give up more of the children's books morphed into certainty that I could do so. The result was that I have given up all but one & an eighth boxes of children's books. I gave the books to my son, who has observed a need for them in his community. Now, I'm thinking about those beloved early childhood philosophy books of which I've let go of so many. Surely I can give up more! Or so, the Spirit seems to be saying as it lures me toward opening boxes I thought were ready for the move.
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