Opening a Door to the Unfinished

I imagine many of us have been there…. spending the first half of our lives accumulating and the second half relinquishing. Should every nook and cranny fill, the balance tips and the art of letting go becomes imperative. As I stand in my semifinished basement, I see all of the things that once helped define me, became a part of me and followed me for decades now and I am confronted with the timeless question- ‘will I ever need this again?’ or ‘will I ever be this again?’ Books on teaching and preaching and playing the violin, instructional books and instruments for singing and dancing with kids, color paper, markers, keyboards and drums, all part of who I was, who I am or who I might have wanted to be. And what happens now- do all of those dreams get sorted, boxed and donated- what part of my past might pop-up once again in my future-how much time do I have for reinvention or revisiting?

It was a deeply bewildering feeling that sent shards of mortality right through my heart -where the past and the present and the future all convened succinctly in that instant - right there in my basement. With Windex and paper towels in hand - in that moment of despair it hit me…I am not saying goodbye to my past… I am merely opening a door to the unfinished - the things that I may have never lived into fully - a new invitation through an old portal. What still enlivens me when I hold my Native American flute- which of those books do I need to revisit- how can I become involved again singing with kids-where’s my Bach’s beginning piano book?

You see I’m nowhere near ready to give up on all of those passions- and what for a moment or two or ten felt that an impending mournful dirge suddenly became a bright and hopeful Texas two-step. My heart started to sing - being reminded of all that still lies ahead! These passions and interests all continue to have a home in my heart and while still living I might as well take a step on the bright side of the moon.

Sure, there are things I need to let go of, reorganize and readjust- but right there, before my eyes, were the things I may never want to let go of- not just artifacts from the journey but reminders of all I’ve yet to live. And if those balls of yarn or quilting squares or jigsaw puzzles or recipe books or that harmonica, or pedal-steel or empty journal isn’t staring back at you, then there’s also plenty of new ground to discover.

For my daughter’s sake, I promise not to leave too much behind - but I surely don’t want my unfinished dreams to end up at the recycling center either. Life holds us here until our last breath and though age may create some limitations, the invitation to live fully remains. Tell me, what might be calling your name from the basement, or attic or storage closet?