'Tis the season to get rid of stuff

But we can't all move to Walden Pond

I ebb and flow in my minimalist endeavors, but my best self is usually found in a decluttered space. The key is to define your “clutter”, and accept that you may live with other people who have their own definitions.

My husband prefers a museum—clean lines, lots of whitespace, photos and objects with meaning, zero dirt. I prefer a carefully curated used bookstore—overflowing bookstacks, a jungle of plants, interesting little nooks, good coffee and comfy chairs, but plenty of clean horizontal spaces for working. Also no dirt.

We land together in the middle somewhere, and I will speak for both of us and say we’ve learned to love the benefits of each setting. I’ll call our style The Museum Bookstore.¹

Life is constantly managing clutter and stuff.

Love is living with your person’s version of clean.

I finished a short little book this week titled Finding Your Walden: How to Strive Less, Simplify More, and Embrace What Matters Most. Before I’d made it to the end, I was recommending it to Tim because I knew it would spark some good discussion for us. He has 2 hours of commute right now, seven days a week between work and church, and he’ll finish the audiobook on his drive this morning.

Aside from doggedly fangirling Thoreau and slipping in some Buddhist mindfulness practices, the author does a good job lining up the parallels between Thoreau’s escape to Walden pond and our 21st century chase of a simpler life. We are all still chasing Eden I suppose.

We have just been through a major declutter and house move and yet…and yet. Life is constantly managing your stuff, which can be in boxes in a basement or in habits ingrained in the patterns of your days. In theological terms, we want the joy and peace Jesus promises and all those things He does “exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think” (Eph. 3:20 NKJV), which is a maximalism of sorts. But paradoxically, less absolutely can equal more when we are looking for the good life with Jesus.

Banquet Piece with Mince Pie, 1635, Willem Claesz Heda

This week a new edition of Cultivating is ready for Christmastide at Cultivating Oaks Press. I wrote about paring down our belongings and remembering my real belonging, and about the things I need to tend to in order to give the kinds of gifts I want to give.

Christmas will feel different this year, which would have been true even if we hadn’t moved. We are just at that stage of life where our traditions are changing as our family expands. It’s as though there is a set weight we can hold, and growth in one area requires paring down in another—and none of that is bad. But this Christmas, the idea of making room for Christ is maybe more visceral than it’s ever been to me, and I am yearning for an eager anticipation to replace the existential holding pattern this year has proven to be. Christ is coming to a world that desperately needs some black trash bags and a system to reevaluate its belongings, and I am first in line to have my load lightened.

Also at Cultivating:

Andrew Roycroft’s beautiful essay on Mr. Tumnus’ everyday bounty in a “never-Christmas” world.

“But God also sees and blesses your own quiet work in private lodgings, the little comforts that you appeal to daily, the personal balms that just get you through – but get you through they do!”

Matthew Clark’s writing always astounds me, and my only comment is the eloquent “sheeeesh”.

“The Maker of the Star-gardens once dove headlong toward earth to be received by a womb in this world, and to those meek souls who receive Him still, He will make of this world a womb, bounded as a lake in the cup of His hand.”

And this delightful essay from Jordan Durbin—let this be the season for yes and celebration!

“I saw and felt the disappointment I was handing out in a steady stream of “no,” but more importantly, I questioned the why of it all.”

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This is the week all of our plans become hinged on a baby’s arrival—our newest granddaughter should be making her way to the world any day now! Christmas babies may be the poor recipients of “bad timing” but what a way to practice and remember what we are waiting for. Adventus: the arrival.

All that is calm is about to explode into song and I am here for it.

1. And full transparency: I don’t know that either of us have ever been to a legit art museum, but not for lack of interest. We just don’t live near one, and when we travel we are drawn more to the history museums.