Saturday Confession: It Makes Sense to Me

It wasn’t that people didn’t offer.

“How can I help?”

“Do you want me to come over and unpack with you?”

And it wasn’t that I was too stubborn to say yes.

I turned down a lot of help because of this—

I wanted to do it my way.

I’m not Martha Stewart but I like to have organization.

My organization.

I haven’t moved a lot, but when I did, there was an anxiety that was hard to shake.

The loving people who came to help who asked, “Where do you want this?” “Where does this go?”

I felt like I’d turn and someone was waiting on me. I absolutely come apart with that kind of pressure.

So, I’d ask what they thought. There was so much wisdom there.

But.

I didn’t feel like I owned the process.

Nor did I feel like it was my kitchen.

Make sense?

Probably not.

But this time around, I unpacked each box and decided where things went on my terms. No pressure. No explaining why I went with this cupboard instead of that one. I might have made some foolish choices.

Yet, they were mine to make.

I’m tired and sore, but I’m pretty excited. I know where things are. I like their location.

And the best thing of all—it makes sense to me.

Do you like to be organized? Do you want help getting to that organized place, or like a toddler or me, do it yourself?

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