Decluttering Spaces & Raising Children
Musings on the Art of Letting Go
Change is the only constant in life—I don't know where I read that or if someone told me that, but it has stuck in my head for ages.
I find myself in a season of change and transitions, almost as if a cool wind whispers through the trees as summer ends. The leaves start to change colors, and you can almost smell the season’s change. The feeling has been in my bones for the last few months as our youngest child is journeying through her last year of high school and navigating college choices. Our oldest will also graduate from college this year, and our family stands on the brink of a new season.
For the last few months, I have been decluttering parts of our home as we have renovated sections ( I wrote an essay on that journey). As I have gone through closets, drawers, baskets, and boxes, I have cried over cookie cutters, hair clips, handmade cards with little fingerprints, and a gold bracelet.
The first time I slipped that bracelet on her wrist, it was so big it almost fell off. We had to wait a few months before we could put it on again. The second time, it stayed on better, but it took a few months before she had enough rolls on her wrist for the bracelet to stay on well. It stayed on her wrists for a few years until it got too snug. Some warm water and soap got it off, and I kept the bracelets in a box for safekeeping. Over the years, one got lost, but the other stayed in my kitchen drawer, a reminder of my baby. My children will always be my babies, no matter how grown up they are. That is the thing about becoming a parent: your heart starts to walk outside your body for the rest of your life.
Loving our children is a funny thing. You don’t know how much capacity your heart has to expand and grow. This little person consumes your life in many beautiful ways as they grow and bloom.
But as I decluttered and tossed things into trash bags, donation piles, and boxes to save, I couldn’t help but think that decluttering a home mirrors the journey of raising children from infancy to independence.
Both journeys of decluttering a home and raising a child involved seasons of accumulation, organization evaluation, and eventually letting go. When I think about the time we had our first child, friends and family brought us gifts: toys for the baby, safety equipment or a crib, clothes, and tiny shoes and socks. We went from having tons of space in our apartment to being overwhelmed with baby paraphernalia. As our child grew, our floor was littered with Hot Wheels, Legos, and stuffed animals sat amongst the pillows in our bedroom.
Many well-meaning people told me that I should take a nap every time the baby napped during the early years of parenting, but I never understood how that could ever happen. It was usually during the nap that I managed to get anything done in the house. Early parenthood was a blur of days filled with feeding schedules, diaper changes, and constant vigilance.
As they grew older, I kept an eye on them, tidied up the Goldfish crackers and Cheerios, and did endless laundry. There were a million things to do, and the physical space of our home and my identity as a parent were overwhelmed with the responsibility and children’s necessities.
Not only did they need clean clothes and toys, but they also needed comfort, and their needs grew as they grew. The home for two adults had become a home bursting at the seams with a million objects and tremendous potential.
Amidst this chaos and need for organization, there was a beauty in the fullness. The day I went through the drawers in my kitchen, I found crayons and markers amidst my silverware, pictures, artwork from elementary school years, Art shows, awards and certificates, school supplies, sports equipment in the garage, and medals and cups from soccer tournaments. Every item brought a memory to my mind. I wanted to keep them all.
I had spent years developing systems for all these treasures. Technically, they could be considered junk, but they were valuable to me because every piece held a memory. Every medal was a soccer game played; every certificate was a piano competition.
Our life had overflowed with abundance, but during that season, as my husband and I established our children's routines, expectations, and boundaries, it had been hard to see. As our children navigated their school years, we created spaces in our home for reading, studying, playing the piano, and working on projects.
Our kitchen table has always been a place in our home for everything. Scratched and with a broken base, it looks sad but holds precious memories.
Arguments, laughter, teasing each other, working on a paper turkey covered with candy corn for a third-grade project, wrapping giant pretzel sticks dipped in chocolate in individual cellophane bags for a market day at elementary school, or working on a model of the Alamo have been had there. There was always a lot of stuff in the house, but everything had a space, and those spaces functioned efficiently for our family.
Our home needed intentionality, just like one would raise children with intentionality. Over the years, we worked to find the balance between order and flexibility, making a million mistakes and creating room to grow.
There were seasons during that time when it was painful and demanding; we didn’t always get it right as parents, and there was heartbreak. Things didn’t work out as we had expected, but God remained faithful, and we continued to grow.
Over the last few years, I have reassessed things in the house. Just like we go through closets every season to find out what still fits and what the children have outgrown, there have been areas in the home where interests have changed.
Volleyball gave way to running, so the kneepads, nets, and balls were packed away in the garage. Music continued to be a place of interest and growth, so we invested in a piano and lessons.
We adjusted our parenting styles as our children grew, helping them learn independence and confidence in their growing identities.
Watching them grow in their knowledge of the Lord and trying to help them figure out their strengths and weaknesses were all seasons where there was an honest assessment. Some things were kept, and some things had to go. Being ruthlessly honest with yourself and being ruthlessly honest with God about your desires and dreams for your children allows us to surrender control and release them into His arms.
As I loaded the bags and boxes into the trunk of my car and made multiple trips to the charity shop, I realized that I was entering the letting-go season of my life. Even though our children are adults, they still need us and depend on us in many, many ways.
As I clear out spaces as they leave for college and the possibility of independent living, I realize that my role is moving from the caretaker and maker of lunches and toasting bagels at 6 a.m. to a type of coach and advisor. They will always need emotional support, and I find myself making space in my head and my heart, physically and emotionally, for the new seasons and chapters that I hope God will write in our lives.
There is an element of bittersweetness to this season of transition and decluttering. Everywhere in my home, I see images of my little children—my toddler napping in the middle of the dining room floor before we had a dining table. I see our son sitting in a work chair before a computer when his legs couldn’t reach the floor.
Our home echoes with memories but still has the space and is open to all the new possibilities, and so we find ourselves in the season of transformation. I reimagine and hope to repurpose spaces for new interests, new loved ones, and new delights. I hope to find new ways to continue connecting with my adult children, and I delight in the way God has created them.
Our home has been a space of security, joy, and comfort for our children, but at the end of the day, it’s still just a building. Our relationships with our children have grown into something beautiful, meaningful, and unique to our family.
Change remains the only constant in our lives, and we must keep adapting and willing to change. Decluttering doesn’t always come easy for me. There are things I want to hold onto to preserve the memory. That gold bracelet will find a spot in my jewelry box, and the box of Hot Wheels will probably always be in my garage.
The parenting journey and the decluttering process show me that I can love deeply and passionately while also holding lightly onto earthly things. I can create the space for both. Both journeys have a physical and emotional connection, but at the end of the day, they are an act of faith.
We don’t know how to raise our kids the day they are born. We go by instinct and trust that God will guide us. So, I continue to declutter this season, knowing that eventually, it will come to a halt before the next season begins. But I remind myself to love deeply and hold lightly, trusting in my Father above.
In this space and tension between what was and what will be, I have also learnt that emptying a space creates room for something new and perhaps a new abundance. It is spring where I live, and I see the buds and new leaves on the trees outside my window, but those branches have been bare over the last few months. Spring brings renewal, just as Autumn was not final but just a season of preparing for new blooms. This space is a preparation for what comes next.
The gold bracelet will stay in my jewelry box, and my daughter will forge forward with writing her story. The Hot Wheels will gather dust in the garage, but my son will drive his own path. And that, to me, is the greatest lesson through this journey of decluttering - I have not lost anything! What matters remains. The memories remain while the relationships transform. The days were long, but the years were short. My heart has expanded with love, and my home has not emptied.
So, I let go of the things from the past and make room for the next season God has created for us, stepping in with a heart of gratitude and praise.
It has been a bit of a strange season in my life. A new job and some new roles have stretched me and changed my schedule. I have been trying to get back to writing and reading while finding joy in the busyness.
Books I am reading this season:
The Good Earth, by Pearl S. Buck
Bread and Wine: Readings for Lent & Easter
Music I am listening to:
Oh, this reaches me in the early stages of my own de-cluttering. I pride myself on being an unsentimental person—but all the things I can’t let go of give truth to the lie!