Ask yourself if it sparks joy. According to Marie Kondo, that is rule No. 6 in the challenges of tidying up. Marie is a Japanese organizing consultant.
For the past few days, while Chuck is in Tampa, I could be found in our spare room we use for storing the things we cannot find a place for and for things we cannot let go of. In other words, a haven for things tied to our hearts.
I am easily sidetracked into sitting and reading notes and letters and old newspaper clippings. I tried my best to lay aside what I thought might slow me down. At times, I did well. Other times, I considered my sitting and reading as taking a much-needed break.
I wore a path to the trash bin. Seriously, how many old advertising ink pens do we need? Some of these businesses had not been around since everyone woke up with Folgers in their cup.
I dared not attempt to go through pictures tucked inside stacks of photo albums. Oh, how sentimental my heart gets when I look at the old black-and-white pictures with the scalloped edges. What was Polaroid thinking when they made the instant picture camera that blurred every photo? Those photo albums hold so many precious memories. The digital age cannot hold a candle to sitting and pondering over old times captured in photographs you can touch.
Each year for Christmas I give my grown children a photo album of their family pictures I’ve grabbed from Facebook over the past year. It’s their favorite gift from me. I do the same for each grandchild when they graduate from high school.
Back to the decluttering.
My mother had a big heart and she struggled to let go of my things. I discovered the “cow jumped over the moon” cardboard cutouts that decorated my nursery. Alongside them were some baby clothes I wore some 67 years ago. I kept a few but I figured the plastic bib was not an heirloom nor would it ever give joy to any baby.
I opened a bag that held my old gold National Honor Society sweater. Talk about ugly! And ever-so-scratchy! It was torture to wear. I think it’s made out of old sheep wool, leftover from Brillo Pad production.
Photo provided by Janet Hart Leonard
I found a plain white envelope that held three pages, torn from a small spiral notebook. It was written in my mother’s beautiful cursive handwriting telling my adoption story. I don’t think it was a coincidence I found it the weekend of Mother’s Day. It was a reminder of just how loved I was by her and my dad. Every so often, I need a gentle reminder that love never leaves when a person passes. I tucked the envelope, holding her words, into the basket that holds my mother’s Bible and other letters and notes she wrote. There are good words in the envelope and her Bible.
There are so many stories I could tell about the things I found as I sorted through memories and stuff. Stay tuned for more in the future.
And about that Honor Society sweater? It did not give me joy back in the 1970s. It sure does not give me joy now, some 50 years later.
As I took it out to the trash bin, I started singing a song my mother taught me oh so many years ago, “I’ve got the joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart and in the trash, this ugly sweater is going to stay.” Not exactly the words to the song but it gave me great joy to sing it … and get rid of that sweater.
I know more joy will be found as I continue to declutter that room and take a few down-the-road-of-memories breaks.
Marie Kondo … I got this!
Janet Hart Leonard can be contacted at janethartleonard@gmail.com or followed on Facebook or Instagram (@janethartleonard). Visit janethartleonard.com.