As I previously have written, since Covid-19 I am on a mission to throw away everything I do not need. At this moment, I am sitting on the floor, staring at “keepers”: my Bible; refrigerator; microwave; a spatula; laptop; cell phone; and Dave, although I may rethink this if he keeps moaning when I threaten to get rid of his guns, used puzzles and Perry Como CD’s. I tackled this project when I became concerned about what will happen when I die and my kids go through my “things,” an endeavor inspired when some of my girlfriends, quarantined with their husbands, began sharing their irritations with their hubbies’ peculiarities.
The behaviors that at one time made my friends laugh have become fodder for torture. One husband “under no condition” will part with his collection of old, worthless lottery tickets. Instead, he spends time counting and stacking them. Another husband refuses to get rid of his life-size Elvis cut-out that stands in the corner of his gun room, the same room with holsters hoarding space on glass shelves. His latest purchase hasn’t found its way to that cabinet because he sleeps with it strapped to his waist, certain that he’s on someone’s hit list for his stash of toilet paper. One friend, mid de-cluttering old clothes, is threatening to set a match to her husband’s jogging suit collection from the 1970’s. According to him, you never know when someone will have a ‘70’s party, and he will be able to clothe the entire list of invitees.
Um-hmmm.
Anyway, because of Covid-19, I am beginning to appreciate what matters most: the “keepers” I leave my family.
I assure you that comments will fly when they come across my red high heels with spikes that could double as an earlobe piercer. My family will not be impressed with my basket of saved letters, kept in case I ever need a little emotional pick-me-up, even I’ve never re-read them. It won’t even be my Cabbage Patch doll or cased accordion, tucked away neatly for who-knows-what-reason.
You see, right now, in light of this virus, I am realizing that there are only a few things that matter, and most of them deal with relationships, relationships that I have taken for granted. I’ve had plenty of time to think about what it is in people that I admire and how this might be a good time to work towards developing those virtues. But get this: none of the qualities dealt with anything glamorous. Not their looks or their possessions or their talent or their position.
Instead, I am thinking about their sense of humor and how they are confident enough to poke fun at themselves. Their ability to be courageous and defend someone who is being gossiped about. Their willingness to always have an open door to guests arriving unannounced (well, not now, of course). Their generosity with meeting a need of someone else, even when it greatly inconveniences them, without laying any guilt on that person. Their ability to be happy for others, even when their own lives are in the pits. Their ability to pray unceasingly.
Aren’t those the attributes for which I want to be remembered? How much better would it be for family members to tell their children about how Grandma always made them feel special or lived every day for Jesus or even shared her red, spiked high heels with them for that crazy costume party (a very real possibility, knowing my family)? And what if one chooses to take up the accordion? Priceless.
Perhaps it’s time I reconsider my “keepers,” including Dave who will be thrilled to know that I’m going to allow him to stay. His Perry Como CD’s, however? That’s an entirely different matter.
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