Saturday was a sad and beautiful day. One of my best friends laid her mother to rest. Our pastor, the son-in-law, spoke beautifully of his mother-in-law. Everything was perfect.
Afterward, I went to our daughter’s new house. It’s an old house really, in the heart of Liberty. It oozes charm and is full of light. I did a few things around the yard.
Then, Sunday, the whole crew turned out to move them in to their new home. Our son and his bride and Duchess came. My sister-friend from the time I was ten years old came. Our daughter’s dear co-worker and friend came. Rock, of course, was there with the cattle trailer.
We loaded every vehicle and the trailer and headed to Liberty. Unloaded, baked some store-bought lasagna, laughed and talked. The Duchesses had a gingerbread house to work on thanks to a foreseeing daughter-in-love. The ice box got thoroughly cleaned and both ovens used. We had cheesecake to honor the memory of one of ours gone on before us.
We brought a redone table and chairs for the dining room. We need a lot more chairs! But the Duchesses had a spot to sit to eat and then later, to decorate the gingerbread houses.
The centerpiece is from Mother. It is her crocheted doily and her grandfather’s buttermilk pitcher. I wanted our daughter to have something from the grandmother who adored her so much the very first time we gathered there.
I might be as excited, if not more, about our girl’s house. We spent all of Saturday before last cleaning it. I realized later what is so endearing to me about it. The windows in the front rooms, the oldest section, have windows like my old house. Tall with sills close to the floor. Reminds me of a house I have loved most of my life. The old house still exists, empty and changed some, in a museum of structures. The house still exists even more in my dreams and imagination. Now, at our daughter’s, there is a structure I really can go to and visit with family or sit with a cup of coffee and feel the light.
After I had driven by the house before the final signing, I told my daughter I finally understood why for years, my heart had been saying: go home to Liberty. Yes. I foresee many more good days to come in a new old house in Liberty, Texas.
I always want to get rid of clutter. To get rid of the too much in my life. To edit and refine my vision. To focus clearly on the goals. One of the ways I have focused over the past week or two is my on-line clutter.
I went through my pins on Pinterest and deleted more than four thousand pins. I deleted boards and edited and remade boards. If I want to use Pinterest to help develop my focus, then ruthless editing is required. It is a source for the vision board I wrote about a few weeks ago.
I have a couple of friends who like to communicate through email. I am terribly negligent checking my email. This very morning, I went through my email and cleared out folders of old mail, cleared all the new mail, pared down to two folders to e-file items. I want to keep up with this clutter collector and be ready to receive further communication from them.
In working on Pinterest, I reviewed pins about getting rid of clutter. Many, if not most, advisors on de-cluttering have lists of things to get rid of that are nothing more than lists of trash. Yes, we should get rid of things that are broken or damaged or missing parts. But, so much of the mess I keep is not broken, damaged or missing parts. Much is barely used. Much is terribly sentimental.
I can probably work my way through the barely used. It is the sentimental that gives pause. I have a plan to work toward my overall goal. If I cull every single item possible from the non-sentimental items, I will have space to display, to use, to store for easy access, those items that are sentimental. Right?
I spent a couple of hours reading over past posts related to home keeping and this very line of thought. In over seven years, my song has not changed much. I found my posts from years ago sounding like I wrote them a couple of months ago.
I do have one change to note. In the past, realizing that would have made me feel frustrated, anxious, like a failure, hopeless. Now, my feelings are of respect for my own determination. My problems are not solved. I have not evolved as much as I had hoped. I feel I have a long way to go to reach my goals regarding my home keeping. But I have persisted. Persistence is key to resolving issues, to making progress, to having success in any endeavor.
I sometimes feel I am not moving along as I desire because I haven’t improved my strategy. I am doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. That could be true. Still, I continue to seek new ways to work, new angles or attitudes to pursue. I know I am recognizing some behaviors that are counter to my desired end. I know I am not doing things as emotionally reactive as I once did. I believe I am more deliberate and quicker to catch myself when I am not being deliberate.
In thinking about my first 13 months retired, I will say I haven’t done a lot of things I thought I would. Maybe because when confronted with no excuses, I find those things aren’t as appealing as they were hiding behind the curtain of “someday”. I have a number of items on my list that are still appealing. They require my pushing out of the cocoon I have created. They require my using the planner I got for my birthday to schedule the tasks needed to get closer to doing those items. They require me deleting ideas and mindsets that keep me distracted doing what doesn’t matter to me and prevents my challenging myself to do what does matter. They also require my paying attention to how I feel about them as they roll to the front of the pursuit. I must be diligent to hit “delete” whenever needed to keep myself on the correct path.
I hear my daughter reminding me, I only have to keep, to do, to be what makes me happy. What I choose to pursue in my pursuit of happiness is just that. My choice. She not only looks like her father, she sounds like him.
I will continue to delete things from my home, my life, my mindset. I may never reach the point I call “the click”. That point when something inside me clicks and says, “Ta Da!! This is it!” But it is something to pursue.
Not every life has to be headline making. There aren’t enough headlines for that. My life needs only those headlines I see on my to do lists. Headlines filled with adventures in blow up pools in the backyard, walks along woodland trails, rides among longhorn cattle, rainy afternoons on the glitter carpeted back porch. Those things must never be deleted. Those are the true sentimental things I want to display, to use, to store in memory.