What remains. Photo by Bonnie S. Heisse.
Yesterday took less time than I expected.
Five tubs.
That’s what I had left to go through.
I sorted through them, made another trip to the dump, then packed up everything that remained from the storage locker.
When I finished, I stood there looking at it.
Twenty-five years fit one level in the back of a pickup truck.
Wow.
Talk about reducing one’s life into an easily manageable pile.
For two days, I had gone through things I had kept for years.
Some brought back memories.
Some made me wonder why I had kept them in the first place.
Some went to the dump.
And some earned a place in the truck.
Then it was done.
Twenty-five years.
One pickup truck.
But standing there looking at what remained, I realized something.
That wasn’t my life sitting in the back of that truck.
It was just stuff from my life.
The years themselves couldn’t be packed into tubs.
Neither could the people who were part of them, or the experiences that shaped me.
What I learned along the way didn’t take up any space.
Neither did the choices that helped make me who I am.
Even the memories that surfaced while I sorted through everything didn’t take up any room in the truck.
After I finished, I had time to shower and rest for a few minutes before meeting friends for lunch.
I saw people I hadn’t seen in a while.
We talked.
We laughed.
I had a wonderful time.
Then I came back and took a well-deserved nap.
By the end of the day, I had accomplished exactly what I had come here to do.
And somehow, after spending two days deciding what stayed and what went, the things that mattered most weren’t in the truck at all.
They never were.
Maybe that’s something worth remembering while we’re busy collecting things we think we need to hold onto.
Our possessions may travel with us for years.
But they aren’t the measure of those years.
Jesus said,
“For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” — Matthew 6:21
Twenty-five years fit in the back of a pickup truck.
A life doesn’t.
🌿 One Dreams Writing — Finding God’s presence in everyday moments.