I can’t stand junk. Of course junk conjures up various images to each one of us. I don’t mean trash junk.
I also hate trash, especially when my husband doesn’t take it out. And I am not being sexist here–I manage the huge job of the recycling, collection and disposal. I just cant get the bag out of the trash can, but neither can he. For me, it is strength. For him it’s forgetfulness.
I lived in Philadelphia when they had their great “trash strike”. In some narrow neighborhoods, trash was piled up 20 feet high along the sidewalks. Streets turned into tunnels. And the stench! Of course it was summer. It was shocking the amount of waste generated over a three-week period, and as a teen it made a huge impression on me. That started my foray into recycling (when it wasn’t even labeled as recycling).
But I digress.
What I can’t stand is “stuff junk”. Stuff junk lies everywhere, tripping me up, acting useless and not needed, which is exactly the case. Every time something is bought, it will eventually (mostly) need to go. I think if this was uppermost in my mind (and I suspect yours as well), we would not buy as much, or at least think about it a bit before we do. I grew up with a tightwad dad, so this was ingrained in me. I married a “stuff-lover”. And my past and present constantly war with each other.
My dad has many sayings, most of which are very funny and a bit crass. It’s the upbringing. Philadelphia. Need I say more. One of them, (toned down, and forgive me if I offend) is, “I’m tighter than a frog’s (butt)….and that’s water-tight.”
I am a water-tight frog butt “wanna be”. I don’t want junk around, because I (or SOMEONE) obviously spent hard-earned money to buy it, and I have to eventually DO something with it. And I don’t trash “stuff”, unless it is completely useless or unsanitary. So I have a constant revolving junk collection area. I collect stuff that has not been used, has harmed me or my toes in some manner, or is broken but still serviceable. Once the amount is beyond my tolerance, I start the task of giving it away. I used to give it magically to “the country” (my husband’s less well-to-do relatives), but that dried up when my in-laws stopped making the four-hour journey. That led to a long period of searching for charities who wanted unused stuff and were willing to come get it.
Economy has entered my “junkitis” world. I have proved to my husband that our budget can no longer support his habit. And a charitable organization comes by twice a month. I am loved.
I know what you are thinking: why not garage sale? Blech, the hours of labeling, and sorting.
And the WAITING.
And needing 3 eagle eyes so people don’t walk away with your unwanted junk. And the WAITING. And the mean people, arguing over 25 cents.
And the WAITING.
And then, you STILL have to do something with the junk from the left over junk. No Way Siree, not for me!
On a more serious level, junk is a phenomenon in our junk filled world. God has placed us in the position of being stewards of His World. And we are trashing it. God’s plan for us has always been to have what we need and to give generously to the poor. Instead of giving the money to do good, I give my old, worn out “junk”. I don’t think this was God’s intention, do you?
I have a list that puts me in a funk!
And teetering at the top is the issue of junk.
While I would love to hide it all in a trunk,
most of it would stink like the hide of a skunk.
Junk, stuff created by greed with pride,
stains this fault-filled “junketed” bride.
For in Christ alone I should abide
unfettered by lifeless stuff at His side.
A simple life is what I need.
Debunked, de-junked, my new creed.
Junk is sin, and sin is greed.
O Lord, un-junk me now I plead!
For stuff is a load that must be un-freed.