stories in the mess

Working two jobs and barely having time to even eat meals, chores were far from my radar this month. Not only did the unclean laundry pile up on my floor, but the Christmas presents (and wrapping paper) and the new fund development materials that InterVarsity sent me lined every inch of my floor.

Generally, my life is filled with clutter.  But when the messy becomes burdensome, something's gotta give.  For the past several days I was filled with worry any time I hopped out of my room that I would sprain my ankle in my attempts at dodging clothes and important (oops) documents and whatever else layered the floor.

And so a safe path in and out of my room became my project for Saturday.

Never mind the dirty laundry--that task was easy.  It was putting order to the work material that made me want to pull my hair out.  Before I could even think about organizing it (which I haven't really gotten to yet) I had to thoroughly clean out my desk.

But in an afternoon that I had been dreading for weeks, I found a sort of peace.  Somewhere amidst the messy, stories of my life danced about.

I found pictures from my toddler years that I held in my hand and remembered how small and innocent and pure I was back then.

When in doubt, assume I'm the one in the Wizard of Oz gear.

I boxed up photos from my middle school years and my heart broke when I thought of the downward spiral that began for me sometime in those "tween" days.

I threw away memories from my darkest late high school/early college years that I did not want to keep.  But I looked at each photo first.  And I allowed my mind to trail back to that standstill in time.  And I wasn't just throwing away pictures.  I was throwing away stories.

One by one, I threw away my past.  Sin by sin.  Heartbreak by heartbreak.  I let them go.

And after a garbage bag was full of trash and a box was labeled and ready for the attic, I pushed those snapshots away from my life.  My past may have led me along the way, but it sure doesn't define me anymore.  I have been washed.  I have been cleaned.

I am a new creation.

Amid the physical messiness of my room, the messiness of the timeline of my life and the past brokenness of my spirit emerged.  I emptied those desk drawers and boxed up those old albums so that I could fill those drawers with my Scriptural references and InterVarsity material.

Throwing out the old to make room for the new.

As I added my last stack of fund development cards and closed the drawer, I could tangibly see that.  Over the past several years, Jesus had one-by-one been removing my past and working on my heart to make room for this new life.

To make room for Him.

My room?  Still pretty cluttered.  My heart?  Still pretty messy.

But there's a pathway through my room now.  And I don't have to be afraid of twisting my ankle.  A pathway that leads me right to my King.