This BIG box is sitting in my basement awaiting a springtime garage sale. This box is filled with baby and toddler clothing and the box on top holds several pair of toddler shoes. This box and those clothes have been a personal hurdle I have not been able to get over for at least two years. Until last weekend, I couldn't. I tried numerous times, but believe me, it just could not be done.
The overflowing bins of baby/toddler clothing in my storage room have been a source of pain and trauma for a long time. Although in my heart of hearts I knew that I would not ever need ALL of those clothes, even should we be blessed with a bounteous brood any time soon, I could not get myself to sort through them. If you've followed here for any length of time, you understand and you know how debilitating my heartache can be for me at times over my secondary infertility. The bins full of memories and tiny pink and blue outfits brought up such raw emotion each time I tried to tackle them, so in time I just put aside the job completely.
I did not get rid of every shred of infant reminders or every precious overall set, after all I still hold on to the hope that I will use them again. But there was excess and there are realities. Someone else really may be in greater need for these cute-as-a-button onesies and outfits. Who am I to hoard them and hold on to them? And no, I did not part with any pretty-in-pink or boy-in-blue that sparked any fond memories. For now, I still need those. I cannot completely let go. I am just one woman, after all.
This box, these clothes, are a reminder of grace. Suddenly, one day I finally held the emotion and the God-given grace to muddle through the bins. The place that I had avoided. Alone, I sorted and decluttered, shedding not even a tear. I was able to let go and I was able to look ahead, without fear of the unknown and without anxiety. How refreshing.