I’ve been on a cleaning spree for
the last few days. I’ve cleaned
the trunk and glove compartment in my car. I catch myself going to my car now, just to admire my trunk. I feel lighter and freer when I open
it. I can’t imagine living any
other way now. Perhaps I will
backslide. I have before. Or perhaps I won’t this time. Maybe I’m finally ready to move forward
in this part of my life.
My garage has also
been undergoing an overhaul. I
just went in there now for some reason I can’t remember and threw out a few
more things. I feel like I’m
unburdening my soul with each piece of paper, book, item of clothing, or odd
item that I give or throw away.
I’m also selling things on eBay, divesting myself of more and more. I want to live a simpler and cleaner
life. The rule is that if it
hasn’t been touched in a year, it can be thrown out. That’s a good rule.
I’ve found things I haven’t touched in ten or twenty years, and still I
carry them with me everywhere I go.
This does not make for a calm or orderly life. Calm and order are what I need. I’ve known this for a long time. In fact, God once told me this.
Ten years ago I
was at a crossroads. I was
miserable, mostly because of my job.
So I checked into a motel near the beach. It wasn’t in a great part of town, but it was cheap, it was
quiet, and I was alone for two and a half days. I looked at my life and I began journaling. I knew I was in the wrong job and that
I was negatively impacting other people.
It wasn’t intentional, but it was happening, nonetheless. I spent a mostly sleepless night trying
to figure out how to fix my life.
The next morning I
went to a coffee shop feeling lost.
I only had a day and a half left of my pilgrimage and I needed some
answers. I couldn’t continue the
way I was going. I had a journal
and a book with me, as I usually do.
The book was Waking the Dead by
John Eldredge. I opened it
and read this:
I suggested that the issue of the day was simply this:
God, who am I? What do you think
of me? What’s my real name?
“What’s my real
name?”
“What’s my real
name?”
“What’s my real
name?”
I was struck by
that question.
I got out my
journal and for some reason I wrote the word “Order.” It means calm, organization, direction, purpose. I realized that my life had none of
those things. I also realized that
I aspired to all of them.
Interestingly, my closest friends were people were very organized, very
calm, or very clear on their life direction. I was none of those things, but I was looking for them and I
had been for my whole life.
My name was Order.
Now if this were a
book or a movie, it would almost be the end of the story. The next chapter or scene would show me
quitting my job for a better one (with music in the background if it were a
movie), becoming immediately and completely organized, and getting every part
of my life in order. Life
seems to work at a different pace.
I did quit my job for a better one, and in that way I started bringing
order to my professional life. But
there were other battles ahead. It
would be several more years before I met my Muse and get order over other
areas. But the process started and
I would never look back.
My trunk has been
clean for three days in a row now.
In the last few days I’ve gotten rid of hundreds of things. I feel calmer. Order is coming into my
life…slowly. In the Wolverine mini-series, Chris Claremont writes,
And yet the patterns of life are as fluid as those of this
gravel. I smooth the stones…new
patterns emerge…chaos becomes order.
The wheel turns. And from
that order…peace?
So I seek order
because that’s the name God gave me.
I’m seeking myself. And I’m
seeking the direction He has given me.
My Muse lights the way and my trunk is cleaner.
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