Two boxes. Two boxes are all that I have left to unpack.
Purging is now my middle name as I not only got rid of a ton of stuff before we moved, but I also have a nice-sized pile of things ready for our church's rummage sale in a couple of weeks. It feels GOOD!
We're getting there. Just a few projects around the house to complete
I must say, I am quite the mover. Meaning, I don't mind getting in there and picking up boxes, building bed frames, organizing closets, directing mover-helper traffic, arranging furniture. I like to get in the middle of it all.
I'm strong, too. I can hang with the big boys when it comes to carrying dressers up stairs or lifting mattresses on my shoulder.
But I'm careful. I know how to lift correctly. When some ladies and I needed (yes, needed) to rearrange my living room furniture three times in order to determine the most fabulous layout, I made sure my back was straight, tummy tucked in, and I lifted with my legs.
Easy peasy.
In the days following the big move, I was left to unpack dishes and decorations, toys and towels. It took some time, but it was just a bunch of little stuff, so no biggie. Right?
A couple of weeks ago, I woke up with a little twinge in my back. Just over my...well, let's suffice it to say it resides in the lower right quadrant of my upper posterior area. I shook it off and got my older girls out the door to school. Got home and went back to it.
It still hurts. Two weeks. I kind of complain about it to people and they ask, "How did you hurt it?" My answer,"I didn't do anything! I was just walking around and getting things out of boxes and putting things on shelves and in closets. Nothing!"
Obviously, I was doing a lot. A lot of little things. No big deal things. Everyday, automatic pilot things. Bending toward a box. Reaching to a shelf. Stepping on a ladder.
I wasn't careful. No need to be, really. Or so I thought.
Oh, if only I could go back and bend at the waist!
But, alas, I cannot. Now, I am paying for it. The consequences of not being careful with the little things.
I think about when "big" things happen in my life. A loved one is sick. A tsunami hits Japan. An Iranian Christian pastor faces execution. I am careful to ask God for His care and peace and comfort and intervention in the situation. I seek His eternal and omniscient perspective.
But the little things? I've got that part under control. By myself. No need to be careful and ask for God to guide me how to wake the middle Chickadee who loathes getting up early for school. I just rely on my limited patience and eventually the threats come. Exasperation sets in.
"If you don't get up now, I'm leaving this room and you'll miss school! And don't even think you'll be sleeping/playing/watching TV! There are toilets to be cleaned and weeds to be pulled and you'll be the one doing it!" Yes, I am yelling now.
Tears. Angry words in return.
Oh, if only I could go back and speak kindly!
But, alas, I cannot. Now, I am paying for it. The consequences of not being careful with the little things.
I guess the point is: Are there really such things as "little" things? Or aren't the little things just the cells that build the big thing which is...Life.
And God knows I to be very careful with that.
Pay careful attention, then, to how you walk--not as unwise people, but as wise--making the most of the time because the days are evil.
Ephesians 5:15-16
Holman Christian Standard Bible