There's no more to be done, or feared, or hoped;
None now needed to sort, or throw, or lift and tire;
No packing done, no printing forms no masking tape
Do they require.
Blankly we gaze. We are free to go or stay;
Our morrow's anxious plans have missed their aim;
Whether we leave to-night or wait till day
Counts as the same.

The last left items that once were treasured
Seem asking wherefore we have set them here;
Each piece of clothing, shoe or toy presents itself
As useless gear.

And yet we feel that something savours well;
We note a numb relief withheld until they tell of 
arrival on distant shore Our well-beloved family 
safe until we meet once more. 

We see by littles now the deft achievement
Whereby they have escaped the rat race all
In view of which our momentary bereavement
Outshapes but small.

Adapted from Thomas Hardy After the Last Breath

Your Life in a Box

My daughter, husband and children move to Australia next week.  The reality of this has not yet sunk, maybe it will soon! But for now there is work to be done, as boxes are packed and possessions are sorted and prioritised.  I have to say I envy them, not just as you may expect for the move or the new life or adventures that lie ahead. I envy the fact that they are decluttering and downsizing, getting rid of unnecessary stuff!

This is the fifth time I have helped friends or family pack after choosing to emigrate.  Sue, Cat, Jan and Fiona all headed off for different shores.  My attic holds treasured boxes of memories for which, one day, they may return. 

On Wednesday the move cube came and my daughter had to pack their chosen possessions into a three meter squared container. Plenty of toys, hubby’s golf clubs, tools and some clothes.  Several years of “stuff” condensed into a box.

Two lines from songs came to mind. “And the Rich declare themselves poor and most of us are not too sure if we have too much but we’ll take our chances because (we feel) God’s stopped keeping score” And “My possessions are causing me suspicion but there’s no proof” What is too much? Why do we need so much stuff anyway? Do I have too much?

Working with the homeless they have very little, once kind people give them “stuff” it starts to impede, to weigh them down, to burden.  I feel challenged at the moment about my own possessions.  I am inheriting some of my daughters but feel I must in turn give some more away.  In a recent book cull I decided that for every one I kept I would give 3 away.

My daughter decided to weigh some clothes and books in, I was stunned when the young man sorted them and graded some items down to twenty pence a kilo.  Piles and piles of “stuff” lay around him waiting to be shipped abroad. Thousands of pounds of clothing in exchange for a few pounds.  When he offered £1 for fifty books I decided a charity shop would benefit more.

But for now she is feeling less burdened, lighter with fewer possessions. Their move leaves things in my house now unnecessary, the children’s toys, cups, plates and cutlery.  I am left wondering which things I would put into a three meter squared box should that decision ever have to be made. My possessions are causing me suspicion….and now I have the proof! Less is more.

When God Created Mothers

“When God Created Mothers"

When the Good Lord was creating mothers, He was into His sixth day of "overtime" when the angel appeared and said. "You're doing a lot of fiddling around on this one." 

And God said, "Have you read the specs on this order?" She has to be completely washable, but not plastic. Have 180 moveable parts...all replaceable. Run on black coffee and leftovers. Have a lap that disappears when she stands up. A kiss that can cure anything from a broken leg to a disappointed love affair. And six pairs of hands." 

The angel shook her head slowly and said. "Six pairs of hands.... no way." 

It's not the hands that are causing me problems," God remarked, "it's the three pairs of eyes that mothers have to have." 

That's on the standard model?" asked the angel. God nodded. 

One pair that sees through closed doors when she asks, 'What are you kids doing in there?' when she already knows. Another here in the back of her head that sees what she shouldn't but what she has to know, and of course the ones here in front that can look at a child when he goofs up and say. 'I understand and I love you' without so much as uttering a word." 

God," said the angel touching his sleeve gently, "Get some rest tomorrow...." 

I can't," said God, "I'm so close to creating something so close to myself. Already I have one who heals herself when she is sick...can feed a family of six on one pound of hamburger...and can get a nine year old to stand under a shower." 

The angel circled the model of a mother very slowly. "It's too soft," she sighed. 

But tough!" said God excitedly. "You can imagine what this mother can do or endure." 

Can it think?" 

Not only can it think, but it can reason and compromise," said the Creator. 

Finally, the angel bent over and ran her finger across the cheek. 

There's a leak," she pronounced. "I told You that You were trying to put too much into this model." 

It's not a leak," said the Lord, "It's a tear." 

What's it for?" 

It's for joy, sadness, disappointment, pain, loneliness, and pride." 

You are a genius, " said the angel. 

Somberly, God said, "I didn't put it there.” 

― Erma Bombeck, When God Created Mothers

It is said that 

"Life isn't about waiting for the storms to pass, 

it is about learning to dance in the Rain!" 

Wise words! Posted daily are quotes and poems and stories and inspiration for those who have a heart to hear and a computer to access them.

 I have just taken yet another phone call from someone desperate, benefits stopped, no gas, no electric no food. Her ears don't need to hear pearls of wisdom, she can't eat those. Maybe some other time when her situation isn't as desperate she may be able to listen. What she needs now is some practical advice, some physical help.

She has done well, a year drug free, a year of trying to sort her life out. The temptations are still there and she has managed to resist them. Resist them that is.... when she had a little money for gas, electric and food. She is still a long way from being able to work. Money spent on her by the state to help with her addiction may soon be wasted if, as she said to me on the phone, "What is the point in trying to be straight when i can't even manage to feed myself". 

I hope the words I offered her resonated just a little bit, along with the food voucher and the clothing voucher I was able to get for her.   Not some lovely flowery words you understand, just some practical support...."I will help you sort your benefits out tomorrow" I am just hoping those words will get her through another day! Help her learn to dance in the rain......