Junky Heart

So I'm thinking about clutter. Toy clutter, specifically. A few months ago the raging demon of organization within took hold and banished most of my children's toys to the closets of the playroom, with specific instructions that NO CHILD was to open those closets and remove any toys, whatsoever. Sound cold-hearted? Cruel? Probably. I smashed all the stuffed animals into plastic bags, dumped all the 5 million junky little pieces into baskets and made precarious towers in the closets before finally shutting the door and forgetting about it all. Well, forgetting about it until my precious daughter would ask for one of her dolls. I would reply, "I don't know where it is. Probably in the closet," and then go about whatever task I was doing at the time. Yep, heartless. But tidy.

Okay. I truly am a horrible person.

In my defense, I could not take ANY MORE of having every floor, table top, EVERY STINKING FLAT SURFACE covered with knick-knacky plastic pieces that have the nerve to be labeled "toys," thus making them assume some marginal value. Or, in the case of my children, the status of precious objects that must be loved and cherished, but only when Mom decides it's time to get rid of them. Until that point it's fine to strew them everywhere and forget about them.

AGH.

So, into the closet it all went.

And right back out it all came today. What. Was. I. Thinking???

Here was the reasoning behind The Great Toy Exit 2017: 

With cold weather coming (eventually?), I wanted to go ahead and cull through the kids clothes so I could consign the ones that had been outgrown and fund the purchase of the next size up wardrobe. So yesterday my hilariously compliant son tried on about 30 items of clothing for me so that I could determine what to keep and what to toss. With my daughter's clothes it was a bit easier. Tried on two sweaters, hooray they still fit, and then packed up the pile that has been slowly growing in the top of her closet as I stashed items that were too small.

But then that light bulb went off in my head. You know, the one that ALL MOMS EVERYWHERE should always ignore. The one that says, "Hey, you're already in the mode of cleaning out. Why don't you go through the toys, too?" Never, EVER listen to that thought!! Slam your mind shut to it! Hum the latest Disney song! Stream an N*SYNC album! ANYTHING but going through the toys!

Alas, I succumbed to THE THOUGHT, opened the closet doors, and begin pulling out the bags and baskets brimming with banished toys. At first the kids didn't catch on. They know that diving into those closets is a big no-no so they were probably waiting for me to be struck by lightning. But then the truth slowly started to dawn and it was like Christmas morning. In about one minute flat the previously tidy play room floor was littered with toys and looking like Times Square after a ticker tape parade. The declarations of joy and rapture coming from my kids were merely dimmed by the whooshing sound of my sanity flying out the window. 

To deal with all of this stuff I decided to go ahead and get rid of anything the kids completely ignored as I pulled it out of the closet. That took care of a garbage bag full of stuffed animals. Next I exercised some motherly discretion and pulled out a box worth of toys that were pretty much always ignored. Those two culls left way more than I still wanted to have, but one side of my heart was feeling all mushy from hearing how happy my kids were to see their stuff, and I decided that if I could just get it organized and everything could have a home, then maybe it would be okay. That is one big maybe. But I gave it a go, gathering baskets and boxes and bins to try and contain all the tiny pieces. 

Getting my daughter's toys sorted and stored took the measure of strength equivalent to that needed to traverse the Himalayas. That done, I called rest time and betook myself to the couch where I renewed my strength with a bag of kettle corn and a phone call to my mom. And took the time to write this blog. Which isn't really about clutter. At least not toy clutter.

This blog is about a heart that is cluttered with selfishness and idolatry. A heart that has valued controlling the amount of stuff that my kids have access to more than it has valued teaching them good stewardship. A heart that feels smug and accomplished when it should feel compassionate and helpful. 

Not a very nice heart.

Nevertheless, it is a heart that is loved. A heart restored by sacrifice not of it's own. A heart sought, purchased, and won for eternal possession. A heart with a second chance, and a third chance, and a millionth chance to be kind, to be humble, to be selfless. 

So after rest time, I'm going to continue sorting and storing. But I'll do it with a sense of joy, not martyrdom. I'll smile with my kids as they create new games with their newly found toys, and at the end of the day I'll help them sort it all again and put it away. I will love them by allowing them this joy, this cluttery, inconvenient joy.

Because that's the kind of heart I want them to have, so that is the kind of heart they must see.