For the love of books

Many years ago, the speaker at a women’s breakfast asked, “Does anyone know where the custom of spring cleaning began?”

The words escaped my lips without a second thought, “With my mother-in-law!” The room exploded with laughter. Good thing Mom had a sense of humour. I wasn’t altogether joking, though. She was the one who introduced me to the concept. My own mother kept a clean house on a daily basis and tackled the bigger jobs as needed. But an annual purge and polish wasn’t on her calendar.

My mother-in-law was a bit of a packrat, but extremely neat and super-organized. Once a year (even to her final days) she worked methodically through closets, drawers, cupboards and shelves, tossing and tidying – always with a satisfied smile. Oh, to be a woman of such virtue.

My admiration for her fuelled a love of all manner of books, articles or websites dealing with decluttering. A few years back, I read Marie Kondo’s The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up. While I stopped short of thanking my socks for their service, I appreciated her point that we too often take for granted the benefits of our possessions. And my T-shirt drawer has been better organized ever since.

This spring, I read Margareta Magnusson’s The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning. Another minimalist, she focuses on dealing with your accumulated belongings before you die, so your loved ones won’t have to. Her philosophy made a lot of sense. I resolved to once again make an earnest attempt at decluttering. Where to start?

Boxes vs. books

Looking around my office, I think the books are plotting a bloodless coup. Two walls are lined with shelving units bulging with excess. I collected some sturdy boxes, determined to begin the cull. An article I read suggested to start by making a list of the books you cannot part with for good reasons.

Here’s my (partial) list of purge exemptions: anything written by Calvin, Luther, Spurgeon or any Puritan. Old textbooks or commentaries. Books written by friends, given by friends, suggested by friends. C.S. Lewis (he has a whole shelf). Anything by James Schaap, Hugh Cook or Randy Alcorn. Motorcycle books. Books I haven’t read yet and those I might re-read. Anything Jack brought home (about half of the library).

Hmm . . . I might not need as many boxes as I thought. Why is it so hard to let go of books? Tell me if you know. Please.

Still, I really need to reclaim some space around here. What sense does it make for all these books to collect dust on my shelves? There must be other people who would love to have them cluttering their homes. Now that I’ve publicly declared my noble intentions, I’ll have to live up to the rhetoric. Rest assured, Jack will hold me accountable.

There’s more to it than just unloading a pile of stuff I don’t need anymore, liberating as that may be. Corrie ten Boom warned that we need to be careful not to hang onto anything so tightly that it hurts when the Lord pries it out of our fingers. Learning how and when to let go is a valuable lesson on so many levels – physically, emotionally, spiritually.

It’s not magic, but it certainly is life-changing.