as a mother

Comedian Ali Wong has a short bit about hoarding and helping her mom clean her house.  Tensions ran high when her mom wouldn't let go of a calculator manual.

"You never know when you might need this!"

"Buuuutttt, I do know that I'm gonna have to clean all this $#&@ up when you diiiieee."

It was funny until I thought about my own basement.

I pictured my kids, many years from now, standing trapped in the middle of my crap, still in shock from learning about our financial situation, feeling totally duped.  And then pitying me because I must have been shamefully hiding problems and bad habits and baggage all these years.  Eventually it would all rot into annoyance because cleaning everything out was taking forever.

The last thing I want for my children is to not know the real me.  Ben and I have worked too hard to make our family and our home the safest places for them to be and dream.  

I want them to have a broader, more accurate world view.  I want them to know that owning and renting are both respectable housing options.  I want them to be thoughtful about their choices.  I want them to be unafraid of vulnerability and course-correction.  I want them to make the time to know and love themselves as their Creator does.  And hopefully these things will all converge to create the authentic lives I desire for each of them.

Encouraging them to be brave or be responsible or to confidently be themselves in a resistant culture will have no traction if I'm not doing the same thing.  So here I am, owning my crap, taking big steps to fix things, and staying true to my values regardless of how upstream they are.  All in quite plain view.

 

finding minimalism

I think it was the weekend before Christmas and Ben and I were driving home from a shopping trip.  Without warning I heard, "I think 5% of me would be okay if we sold our house now instead of in ten years."

Out of my own mouth.

The reality of our finances caused a dull, inescapable hum, as it tends to do around the holidays.  The recently-woven dream of downsizing and paying off our debt with the proceeds in ten years did not bring me the comfort I thought it would.  Even though it was plausible, with the kids easily being in their twenties and likely living their own lives by then.

In quick succession I heard the statement again.

Out of his mouth.

And by the time our six-minute drive home was done, 5% became 99% and we had the outline of a plan.

The conversation continued up in our bedroom - it's a strange feeling, having a hard conversation and being excited about it - as we brainstormed what this plan would entail.

Later that night, I flipped through Netflix's new releases on the 43" smart TV Ben had just won at his Christmas party and discreetly set up in our bedroom.

"Minimalism: A Documentary About The Important Things"

Hmm.  What's that?

Melissa had been tossing the term minimalism around the house over the past year and I wasn't sure if it referred to the style of art or the tendency of some to furnish an all-white room with a single white chair.

So I watched it while folding laundry and possibly with my mouth gaped open for the full 78 minutes.

You know that scene in The Matrix when Trinity sucks the bug out of Neo's belly button?  He freaks out when the bloody parasite comes into his view, just before she tosses it out the car window and it dies its little electronical death.

It felt like that, an ugly truth about self and the world held at eye-level in all its nauseating, convicting glory, but with hints of actionable hope.   Like a great sermon.

And so began the slide down the rabbit hole.  I think I watched it again the next day.  I looked up The Minimalists and every contributor shown in the film.  I asked people if they'd seen it and if not, recommended it.  I extracted key points and swallowed them whole as I went about my day, looking at my clothes, my kitchen, my stress, my life.  

I had finally discovered one of the tools I had been longing for to address the disorder that was suffocating seemingly every area of my life.

 

Next: minimalism and such

we're moving

Did you see my Instagram post?

We just did what I said I'd never do.  We sold our house and I will no longer die in ripe old age under its roof as originally planned.  In two weeks we plan to be fully moved into our new home and will turn the keys to the house over to its new owners a month later.  A slow, daily move and lots of time to finish cleaning up = sanity.

Here's the deal in a beautifully-bulleted nutshell: 

  • Sell house
  • Pay off mortgage and all consumer debt
  • Move family of 5 into a 900ish sq ft, rental home (hence the tag #fivetonine)
  • Eliminate 80-90% of our material possessions

The plan is a messy labour of love.  Our priorities have demanded re-sorting.  We have had to confront a lot of unglamourous habits and past decisions.  We have made reluctant acquaintance with impracticality and unpredictability.

And God has proven Himself faithful and gracious.

I have tapped into the wisdom of various movements: minimalism, tiny homes, essentialism, simple living, KonMari, etc.  For example, this has been a strong guide for me:

Simple living means living holistically with your life’s purpose. - Tsh Oxenreider, The Art of Simple

This stuff is all very en vogue these days.  Below all the adopted philosophy, though, are roots secured to Scripture.  Like this passage:

Owe nothing to anyone except to love one another; for he who loves his neighbour has fulfilled the law. (Romans 13:8 NASB)

This is about six months in the making, but the road leading up to this is definitely years-long.  I have no idea how the posts to follow will flow, but hopefully, at the very least, something I share will ignite or affirm something in you that works toward living a life that, from every angle, faces its purpose.  Because that's what I'm trying to do too.

Next: about debt