Creatures of Habit

As I was opening the drawer in my kitchen to grab a fork, the entire cabinet broke completely off the hinge.  No amount of fixing could repair the damage to the splintered wood.  So I resorted to using “gorilla” glue to permanently seal it. Although unusable, the drawer still appeared like its old, reliable self. 

This break happened several months ago. Even so, each of my family members (including myself) will inevitably try to open that drawer to retrieve a needed utensil.  It has become quite the practical joke to see each person tug and pull at the sealed cabinet.   I’ve come to look at it like a physiological experiment demonstrating how we are creatures of habit.  

It has been 6 months since the death of my father-in-law and Ken is quick to list all that has happened since his passing.  First the dreaded Funeral Directors which led to Attorneys & Financial Planners and finally Real Estate Agents.  We have been busy trying to get everything settled and move to an emotional place of comfort.  All that needs to be done takes us away from being the creatures of habit we were before his passing.   And today, Ken’s childhood home which his parents lived in for 60 years, has been sold - it is officially “under contract”.   There is no moving forward without the painful reality of letting go of the past.  And forward is the only direction possible.

Now begins the work of clearing out the contents of a family’s’ life.  Every picture hanging and worn out piece of furniture carries with it a story.  Every garment hanging in the closet and strip of paper tucked in a drawer holds another memory.  The job of going through everything, which has been neatly arranged within the house, is emotionally draining.  But the elimination of things will never erase what the heart carries.  And in the process of clearing we see how God was present through it all.

So we pick and store that which will move into the future.  And we clear and remove items not physically coming with us.   The house will stand and appear as its old, reliable self but it will no longer be where we spend holidays, share meals, or stop by to visit Nanny and Poppy.  The doors will be sealed to us, like my kitchen drawer,  but our hearts are full and bursting with the memories that we take with us.  We are straddling the good ol' days and clinging to the Hope found in tomorrow, reveling in the opportunity to become creatures with all new habits.