My sister and I finished organizing the shed today. It was horrible. You couldn’t walk inside of it because things were just thrown all over, and you didn’t know where anything was or have any way of getting to it. It was not something I was excited about doing, but I’m really glad that we did. We emptied it out, threw some stuff away, donated some clothes (and by some, I mean 17 garbage bags worth), and organized everything into bins and onto shelves. It looks so nice now. There are still some things that could use organizing, but that would require my mom going through her things to see what she really wants or what she needs to get rid of, so I’m not counting on that happening anytime soon. I was finally able to organize the bins with my things in there, and can finish working on my room since I now have a place to put my stuff. It’s a nice feeling.
And of course, being the person I am, I was able to take this situation and turn it into a life metaphor. Our shed had gotten so messy because if we came across something in the house that we didn’t know what do with but didn’t want to throw away, we’d just throw it in the shed and not have to worry about looking at it. It’s funny how we do that with life stuff too. If something gets too hard or we don’t want to have to deal with it, we’ll store it away in a little box in our heads and hearts. We can’t just throw the box away, because we know what’s inside might be valuable, but it’s too much work to go through it and deal with it. It’s tough, tiring, annoying, and sometimes painful to open up that box and sort through everything that’s been piling up inside there for years and years, but it’s so good afterward. I love metaphors.