What can I let go of?

Prompted by an earlier Daily Question last month, and encouraged by a few folks who participate in this space, I am in the process of whittling down my eight rows of plastic tubs that are stacked eight six tubs high in our basement. They contain keepsakes of a 31 year career of working with children, teens and parents, and 26 years of founding and running a Quaker children’s retreat program here in New England. Many of the photos, children’s artwork, notes and what-nots, are precious to me. But some, over time, have lost their luster and have deteriorated with age and need culling and letting go. It is not easy, but I am making decent progress by taking about thirty minutes daily to sort, digitize some items, and bag up other items (quickly!) for disposal. I have eliminated three stacked rows to date, to my wife’s surprise as well.

It is all well and good to “let go” of some things, but my mind and heart also struggles with wanting to honor the spirit and intentions of the many people, mostly children, who gave something of their own heart in what they gave to me all those years ago. As I sort through stuff, I am reminded of the young woman who bumped into me two years ago, whom I had worked with as a child, asked, “Do you remember the round stone I gave you, that fit into a hollow of that huge rock you kept on the corner of your desk back then?” (She was little back then, the rock’s not really huge, just heavy.) I was happy to tell her not only do I still have that little rock, and it’s bigger companion, but they’re sitting on the corner of my desk at home now, still. (Both pieces remain within arms reach as I write this morning.) Let go of these nuggets of time and meaning? Never.