spring cleaning.

Twenty years' worth of memorabilia has been stacked, stored, and shoved into the furthest reaches of my space. I have been sentimental since I could talk, and the things I'm now throwing away, giving away, and selling testify to my pack-rat alter ego. Deep crevices in my closet, cupboards, desk, and under my bed are finally, at long last, being brought to light. This is the spring cleaning of a lifetime.

And in more than one sense. In some ways, this springtime is more than mid-May. A long winter is tumbling out of my life with some final claps of thunder and a few more showers, and my anticipation is building that "the new has come." Yesterday I said goodbye to my brother and sister in law, and it was the most recent in a line of painful, heartrending goodbyes from the last year. A songwriter I respect penned a song about God's role in each "season" of life, and in the verse about "winter" she writes, "Even now in death, You open doors for life to enter."

Life?

Yeah. Life. Just maybe... beauty can come from brokenness. It's almost too frightening to hope, but don't we have to hope? Why should I continue to invest hours and days on cleaning out my room if not because I can foresee what that space will look like?

There are some things I can't get rid of just yet. Some letters and books will remain on my shelves, some clothes in the closet, simply because I don't need or want to part with them. And I think that's okay. Out with the old is not a denial of self or of the roots that have grounded us in the soil where we can finally spring to life. And now that I'm getting way too philosophical about cleaning my room, this little break is over.