Simplicity!

Two bloggers I follow (see my BlogLog) have posted recently on similar themes.

This weekend Shannon over at Rocksinmydryer posted this quote from G.K. Chesterton:

There are two ways to get enough:
one is to accumulate more and more.
The other is to desire less.
--G.K. Chesterton *


Then Mary DeMuth posted something similar about consumption and "stuff."

She said that a book by Lisa Samson has her thinking "about stuff and clutter and consumption and shopping for the fun of it. Being in France in a hobbit house has helped me tremendously in my addiction to shopping, thank goodness, though I still miss Ross and T.J. Maxx."

And then she went on to voice a theme that continues to nag me, too--something I long for, but can never seem to make happen. "Simplicity is something I've longed for as an adult," Mary says. "I want space, less clutter, more freedom---both in my home and in my heart."

(Heavy sigh.) When I look back on journals over the years, "simplicity" emerges as a theme--a constant longing. I write about wanting to simplify my schedule, my household routines, my mindset, my space, my stuff. Instead, with each year it seemed we did the opposite: adding to and complicating our lives.

With one exception. Summer 1997, The Belgian Wonder's emergency heart surgery slammed on the brakes. When he was in the hospital, our schedules screeched to a halt. Even when we made it home alive and well and he was recuperating, we just existed. We were just...us. No plans, no meetings, no activities to rush off to. The kids were still little; in fact, two were yet to be born (one inside me at that moment, born two months later; The Boy not due to arrive for a few years). So we just lived simple little lives with our little girls in our little house. We strolled around the block. We walked to the library. We ate simple meals and played with blocks. Life really did get pared down to the bare minimum. Those were important lessons on What Really Matters. I discovered during that unusual season that for me what mattered was my relationship with God and my relationship with people. That was about it.

Jesus summed it up that way, too: Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength. "This is the first and greatest commandment," he said. "And the second is like it: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.'"

Gradually, however, as The Belgian Wonder returned to work, we invited busyness back into our lives, one event, one class, one "sure, I can help with that" at a time. Our schedules bulged. We were rushing again. We lost that simplicity of schedule.

Our minds were full of all the obligations and commitments we made. And with three girls and eventually four kids, stuff piled up. Lots of stuff. A few years later, nothing seemed simple.

Years have passed since those lessons were learned and neglected. We continue to raise our family of four children in a suburban American culture brushing against an affluent zip code. The oldest two are preteen girls, and society serenades them in particular, as our family navigates treacherous waters. They're tempted with songs of Hollister and Aeropostale, Nintendo and Apple; and I can't plug their ears with beeswax. The sirens sing of acquisition and accumulation, and above the mesmerizing symphony of consumerism playing incessantly in their ears, I am one lone, unpopular, uncool voice shouting "Simplicity!" I am drowned out, I think, by the messages all around them on TV, at school, and stitched onto their neighbor's favorite jeans.

I want to desire less, like Chesterton advised. I want space, less clutter, more freedom, as Mary D. expressed. I want to pare down and cut back. I want simplicity.

To start by simplifying our stuff would be both a tangible move in the right direction as well as a symbolic reminder of all the other ways we could declutter ourselves: heart, soul, mind and strength.

Although it takes a while to see progress, one of the simplest ways to accomplish this is via a daily commitment recommended by FlyLady: a 27-fling boogie, moving quickly through the house and ridding it of 27 unwanted items, whether things to donate or trash to toss. I probably have more like 2700 items to evaluate. Maybe more. I'd best get started.

Seems like simplicity should come with an Easy button…with one thwack, my surroundings could be in perfect order.

Instead of simplicity being easy, however, it appears that it requires hard work: hard work to get there—and the hard work of staying strong against the surrounding culture in order to sustain it.



* I tried to find a reliable source to confirm it's a Chesterton quote, but couldn't find anything...so we'll just go with it for now.