The picture to the left is a triumph! A monumental moment! To be able to see my garage floor! To park snow removal equipment where it's handy! That's the result of over 3 years of planning, napping, resting, dawdling, procrastinating, and then actually doing something about the mountain of boxes that filled half of my house garage. This mountain had been built when a U-Haul truck was unloaded by a group of caring Christian friends from Trinity, Minocqua, and Peace, Houghton. back at the end of June, 2022. Ever since then, I'd shuffle around a box or two at the base of the mountain. Sometimes I would dare to go mountain climbing in search of a box that I really needed. (Where in the world are my Stormy Kromers? Ah, in a box with plates and duct tape. Makes perfect sense.)
But this year, come August, I had had enough. I vowed to dismantle "Mount Retirement," box by box. No small feat. Because everything that had been hastily thrown into packing boxes before I moved to the deep south from the snow country of Houghton--all that stuff needed to be sorted. And quite a bit went out by the road under a free sign. (It's amazing what people will take when it's free. Even some stuff that I was ready to haul to the dump.) Some stuff was set aside for my daughter or family. Other stuff went to Good Will. Still more tool stuff moved into the Tractor Shed where I plan to set up my shop. Other stuff, bigger yard equipment stuff and seasonal stuff went into the new garage Chris Smith built for me last year, my famous "Taj Magarage." A smidgen of my stuff went into what I call my "shed in a bag." That's where my Pontoon boat spends its winter, nestled next to a pile of lumber and a few other odds and ends assortment of stuff I’ve accumulated over the years.
For a few months, I felt like I was playing Jenga with stuff. This piece of stuff fits there. This piece there. This one up there. That one down at the bottom over there. At times I would think, "Why in the world am I keeping this piece of stuff?" So I'd put it out by the road, or on the side for my daughter, or in the car for the next trip down to the Rhinelander Goodwill.
This was a step beyond downsizing. Ask my daughter. I had done that before leaving Houghton. This was brutal. This was destuffifying.
And it's been liberating. It reminded me of what Elma Cline told me years ago. I visited Elma and her husband in their home in Fort Wayne, Indiana, where I served my first parish, Holy Scripture. We'd enjoy a cup of coffee and some goodies. I'd share God's Word and the Sacrament, and Ed and Elma would share the wisdom that comes with age. During one visit, Elma looked at me and said, "Pastor, the day comes when you realize your stuff owns you. You don't own it."
Amen, Elma. Amen. Sorting stuff. Storing stuff. Maintaining stuff. Fixing stuff. Moving stuff. Replacing stuff. Upgrading stuff. I have come to the point in my life where I don't just want to downsize my estate, I want to destuffify! Live simply. (Well, maybe keep all my ice fishing, fishing, and hunting gear.) Our Savior knew what he was talking about when he warned, "Watch out and be on guard against all greed, because a man’s life is not measured by how many possessions he has.” (Luke 12:15)
Perhaps you need to destuffify this Christmas season? When we tear down our mountains of stuff, we recognize that the greatest gift of all is already ours. By faith, together with the Apostle Paul we can shout, "But, whatever things were a profit for me, these things I have come to consider a loss because of Christ. But even more than that, I consider everything to be a loss because of what is worth far more: knowing Christ Jesus, my Lord. For his sake, I have lost all things and consider them rubbish, so that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own, which comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness that comes from God by faith. I do this so that I may know him and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of his sufferings, being conformed to his death, in the hope that in some way I may arrive at the resurrection from the dead." (Philippians 3:7-11)
Privileged to serve,
Rev. Glenn Schwanke
But this year, come August, I had had enough. I vowed to dismantle "Mount Retirement," box by box. No small feat. Because everything that had been hastily thrown into packing boxes before I moved to the deep south from the snow country of Houghton--all that stuff needed to be sorted. And quite a bit went out by the road under a free sign. (It's amazing what people will take when it's free. Even some stuff that I was ready to haul to the dump.) Some stuff was set aside for my daughter or family. Other stuff went to Good Will. Still more tool stuff moved into the Tractor Shed where I plan to set up my shop. Other stuff, bigger yard equipment stuff and seasonal stuff went into the new garage Chris Smith built for me last year, my famous "Taj Magarage." A smidgen of my stuff went into what I call my "shed in a bag." That's where my Pontoon boat spends its winter, nestled next to a pile of lumber and a few other odds and ends assortment of stuff I’ve accumulated over the years.
For a few months, I felt like I was playing Jenga with stuff. This piece of stuff fits there. This piece there. This one up there. That one down at the bottom over there. At times I would think, "Why in the world am I keeping this piece of stuff?" So I'd put it out by the road, or on the side for my daughter, or in the car for the next trip down to the Rhinelander Goodwill.
This was a step beyond downsizing. Ask my daughter. I had done that before leaving Houghton. This was brutal. This was destuffifying.
And it's been liberating. It reminded me of what Elma Cline told me years ago. I visited Elma and her husband in their home in Fort Wayne, Indiana, where I served my first parish, Holy Scripture. We'd enjoy a cup of coffee and some goodies. I'd share God's Word and the Sacrament, and Ed and Elma would share the wisdom that comes with age. During one visit, Elma looked at me and said, "Pastor, the day comes when you realize your stuff owns you. You don't own it."
Amen, Elma. Amen. Sorting stuff. Storing stuff. Maintaining stuff. Fixing stuff. Moving stuff. Replacing stuff. Upgrading stuff. I have come to the point in my life where I don't just want to downsize my estate, I want to destuffify! Live simply. (Well, maybe keep all my ice fishing, fishing, and hunting gear.) Our Savior knew what he was talking about when he warned, "Watch out and be on guard against all greed, because a man’s life is not measured by how many possessions he has.” (Luke 12:15)
Perhaps you need to destuffify this Christmas season? When we tear down our mountains of stuff, we recognize that the greatest gift of all is already ours. By faith, together with the Apostle Paul we can shout, "But, whatever things were a profit for me, these things I have come to consider a loss because of Christ. But even more than that, I consider everything to be a loss because of what is worth far more: knowing Christ Jesus, my Lord. For his sake, I have lost all things and consider them rubbish, so that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own, which comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness that comes from God by faith. I do this so that I may know him and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of his sufferings, being conformed to his death, in the hope that in some way I may arrive at the resurrection from the dead." (Philippians 3:7-11)
Privileged to serve,
Rev. Glenn Schwanke
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