Me and My Stuff

I heard a comedy routine some years ago by George Carlin about STUFF. I still remember it:

“That's all I want, that's all you need in life, is a little place for your stuff, ya know? I can see it on your table, everybody's got a little place for their stuff. This is my stuff, that's your stuff, that'll be his stuff over there. That's all you need in life, a little place for your stuff. That's all your house is: a place to keep your stuff. If you didn't have so much stuff, you wouldn't need a house. You could just walk around all the time.”

The routine continues to talk about getting so much stuff you need a bigger house for your stuff, you go on vacation and need to take just a bit of your stuff, and after trips you bring home more stuff, etc.  It is raw and rough in spots but I love the bit, because it is so dang true. The acquisition of “stuff” is part of the American reality for most.

We are moving this month and going through all of our stuff – decisions about keeping stuff, giving away stuff and moving stuff is a big part of our lives right now.  We have bags of stuff to give to Goodwill or some other charitable organization. We have bags of stuff that is going out in the trash.  And other stuff is getting packed up to load on a truck and take all the way to our new house – a mere 15 blocks away. But we have to pack up as if we are moving cross country almost.

And the stuff is amazing. Going through your stuff is a kind of archeological dig of sorts. We have talked about items in my son’s room that he wanted to hear the story about. We have talked about priorities in regards to what stuff we have and how we use it – or don’t use it. We have talked about how to decorate the new place with our stuff. And we have talked about the need to acquire less stuff in our lives.

We discovered that we have stuff we have not used in the two years since we moved here – so it is getting tossed or given away unless it is a keepsake. We have stuff that is important so we cannot pack it up until closer to the truck coming to load. We have stuff that has to go with us and stuff that we’re still debating about keeping.

Stuff can weigh us down. Stuff can make us possessive and oppressed. Stuff can separate us from ourselves, from others, and from our God. Stuff is not what God wants for us – God wants faithful living, nurturing relationships, spiritual formation, living missionally, and building family, among others.

Truth is … me and my stuff need a reality check.  What is important in my life is not going to fit in the back of the moving truck. I need to remember that fact.

(And I'm not even gonna get into the "unpacking" of my stuff ... that's for another blog)

Melting Miles

In the last week I have Skyped with family in Texas, talked on the phone with a pastor friend in North Carolina, messaged/chatted with a good friend in California, kept up with family in Tornado Alley via Facebook, uploaded student sermons to a limited access YouTube account so they could see them and share them with friends/family, received an update from a former student by email about their approval for ordination, and connected to an old friend by seeing their retweet of a message on Twitter.  Yesterday, my friend in Ohio was driving in Michigan and got lost – she called me and I went on my laptop to Google the address she was searching for, then mapped her route and got her to her appointment with turn-by-turn directions on the phone.  It was a hoot.  We laughed about it until I almost cried.

Sometimes living in a state far from family and longtime friends is tough.  When our son had an end of the year school concert – I wanted my parents (his grandparents) here.  When my spouse had a medical test—I wanted their mom to be here.   When I was installed as a professor at my seminary—I wanted my best friends and family here.  When my friend needed me to help them through a crisis—I wanted to be with them to hold their hand.   Unfortunately, the miles kept all of us away from one another physically. 

There are times when the miles seem insurmountable.  It seems like I am missing my niece’s lives as they graduate and play sports that I am not there to see.  It seems like my friends are constantly experiencing things that I would love to witness and be there for.  It seems like the miles are a gulf when holiday after holiday I am separated from those I love.   But then there are those amazing times when they seem to melt away.   I am reminded that connections are connections – whether emotional, physical or psychological.  

Amazingly, my parents saw my son’s concert via Flip, Facebook, and Youtube.  My spouse’s mom got a call minutes after the positive medical test came back.  And pictures of my installation popped up almost immediately after the event on a seminary blog.  My friend got to her lunch appointment almost on time.  And my hurting friend felt relief talking to me on the phone.  None of these situations were completely the same as they would be together, but it felt so good to have these moments.   I really felt a personal and emotional connection in all of them.

Modern technology makes it possible to witness the amazing header scored in a state soccer game by my niece, to send video of my son’s concert far away, to talk to my hurting friend many states away, to guide my friend to her appointment, and to visit with my folks whenever I want and see them on Skype while we talk. 

But connections are more that these technological moments – I am connected to them by personal experiences, lasting memories, amazing interactions over a number of years, and in so many other ways.  Some I am connected to by blood and others are family and friends by choice.  So whether I talk to them personally or see them in person – the connections are still there, still real, and still important.  I am connected to them by faith and by a God who loves us all.  I am connected as we are a family of faith –committed to each other in ways no distance can cancel out. 

We are connected … and I thank God for those connections every day of my life.