the things we carry
Here in the dog days of July, my summer has taken an unexpected turn. It’s good news, but not an occasion we planned for when I carefully calendared out these weeks. Now, in addition to an extended family vacation, my husband’s work travel, and packing up two kids to return to college, we will also be packing up our home of ten years and moving 2.5 miles down the road. But I am not complaining! Like I said, it’s good news, BUT I’m very aware that this kind of change is way up there on the list of stressful life events.
As I’ve started packing and sorting through all the things a family of five can collect over a decade, I’ve identified my most prevalent emotion: overwhelm. There are a thousand decisions to make ranging from the minor (how many LEGO sets does a family of young adults need? More than you’d think.) to the slightly-more-weighty (am I ready to part with my grandmother’s china I never use? NO.). Wrapped up in every decision is some judgment my brain is making about what kind of wife/mother/person I am to get so attached to material things. What does it mean that I’ve collected glass jars and “good” boxes over the years, in addition to the important things like kids’ artwork and meaningful letters? It’s no wonder I feel overwhelmed when my brain is so busy assigning meaning to every choice I make to pack, donate, or trash.
I could power through the emotion and set aside my feelings to just get the job done. I could numb myself and refuse to engage my overwhelm to self-protect. Honestly, I do choose each of those options often! Yet there is a third option I’ve been toying with as well…
If you’ve spent any time at a Barnabas training, or even just hung around our offices, you’re probably familiar with the didactic of Dignity and Depravity. Simply put, it’s the idea that every person is created in the image of God and has some innately dignified, God-given inclinations. Yet that same person is also so deeply affected by humanity’s brokenness that she self-protects at every turn and doggedly pursues her own interests.
Applied to my move, it looks like this: I’m sorting through the home where I spent my forties, poured into my marriage, and parented three lively, unique kids. I created beauty along the way, collected memories and scars, and there is material evidence of the life we built here. That feels dignified and worth celebrating. I can give thanks for the “stuff” of a safe and comfortable home, from favorite childhood board books to wedding gifts that may have outlived their utility. Leaning into the dignity leads me to gratitude to the Giver of good gifts.
However, with courage, I can see my own depravity as well. There are ways I’ve tried to build my own tiny kingdom here. I sometimes fall into the belief that I’m responsible for managing and controlling every aspect of my home and family, forgetting to rely on God and trust Him with those I love most. I’ve looked to material wealth and worldly comforts to buffer us from the outside world, believing that a Pinterest-worthy home will conceal the dirty laundry within! My own struggles with a scarcity mindset have led me to hold on to things I’d be better served to let go of. Leaning away from this depravity frees me up to look ahead to the next chapter with hope and expectation.
When I take the time to examine the overwhelm with compassion and use the framework of Dignity and Depravity, I naturally slow down and feel some relief. As I recognize the dignity in my response to a big move and dignity in my overwhelm, I feel God with me, blessing the years and the memories all the packing represents. As I name and repent of the depravity, I feel a lightening up, an assurance that my life and worth don’t depend on my things or my home. Again, I feel God with me, a knowing that He holds me and moves with me, wherever I go…no matter what I decide about the LEGO sets and china.
Caroline Chambers joined The Barnabas Center in 2020. She earned her undergraduate degree at Wake Forest University and a Master’s in Counseling at Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary in Massachusetts in 2002. Since then, she’s worked with clients and families throughout the life span from early education to end-of-life issues and has recently taken additional coursework in counseling and theology at the Gordon-Conwell campus in Charlotte.
She lives with her husband, Matt, and their three children. Over the years, Caroline has been blessed by being part of many different faith communities, leading and participating in women’s Bible studies and Spiritual Formation groups. She also enjoys running, yoga, and a good novel.
