I’ve been batting clean-up at home. It’s been coming in waves. I do some things, get back on my feet and sink into my life. Which is busy and demanding and beloved. But tiring.
So when I get a moment again, I get rested and then I can consider what I want to do next to normalize what feels vastly un-normal. I am now the keeper of so much family goodness. But not all of it has yet found its way into final homes on my walls or in closets or…
But Saturday was one of those days to attack a pile. I had the time, I was in a good place. As did many of Deb’s friends, I brought home a bunch of clothes. Deb was much taller than I (to my eternal chagrin). So wearing her pants demands intervention. There I was intervening. zip, zip, zip. fix. fix. fix. complete assignment. moving through the pile and BAM. oh, right. these were Deb’s favorites. She wore them all the time. My sister. My sweet, sweet, no-longer-here sister.
So I had a decision to make. I could let them drag me down, tuck them on a shelf and never wear them again. I could throw them out. And forget recycling. Somethings the trash is the answer. And if I couldn’t wear them I didn’t want to see them on somebody else who bought them at the church yard sale. Or, I could take strength from wearing her favorite pants — put on the whole armor of Deb, if you’ll excuse the bad remake of a Bible verse. So, I chose. I’d wear them in pride. I’d step up and step out. They’re teal, after all. New memories to be made. New ways to count blessings.
So crisis averted i plowed on. Remember I put out a plea for coats for a friend. The woman who leads the yard sale obliged. As I was tucking them into the car I realized. They were Deb’s. I was going to have to learn this lesson. Let go. And really, deb would have been thrilled to know her stuff was headed to SD to keep people warm. And I reclaimed that very warm sweater I’d given away because really, it never gets that cold here. So there we are. Getting brave. Making Peace. Wearing the pants in the family.