The Mess in My Closet

In terms of moving, my childhood was pretty stable. I think I moved approximately three times throughout my childhood, adolescence, and teen years. That number may seem few to some, but I know many people who would consider that number astonishing, particularly where I grew up. As an adult, I’ve moved more times than I care to admit. Many times it was to a different state and a couple of times to a foreign country.

You would think that all that moving would make me some expert, but it’s quite the contrary. When I need to pack boxes, I usually slump on the floor in a panic. My long-suffering friends alternate between packing my belongings and stuffing chocolate into my mouth to calm me down. I have good friends.

Too Much Stuff

It’s not the moving that overwhelms me. It’s the amount of stuff I have. I’ve only been in my current residence for about four months, and already my closet is overrun with boxes, gifts, and random trinkets. Where does all this stuff come from?! The worst part is that I never notice how bad it’s getting until I’m overrun with things. That’s because I am good at stuffing things into my closet. I’m good at successfully keeping my mess hidden from others and myself.

Don’t we do the same things with our emotions? I see this all too often. When we are in pain or depressed, anxious, or distressed, our first reaction tends to be to stuff it down. We keep our pain hidden from others and even ourselves. But I don’t think that’s how God made us. He gave us our emotions for a reason. I don’t believe that reason was to stuff them down. Even Jesus wept when He was sad and knocked over tables when He was angry. While I’m not endorsing knocking over tables, I do recommend taking stock of yourself and seeing if there are any emotions that you are stuffing down. Maybe a friend is willing to lend an ear and provide comfort.

“Share each other’s burdens, and in this way obey the law of Christ” (Galatians 6:2, NLT).

If you liked this, you might also enjoy Christmas In My Closet | Bearing One Another’s Burdens 

Jael Amador writes from New York.

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