I hope to get out here and blog about a couple of things later today, but it may be much later. At present, I'm doing something rather dangerous. I'm cleaning out my closet, and...
...now, wait. It's not dangerous for me to clean out my clothes closet. I do it on a fairly regular basis--sort through the clothes, remove things I don't wear or that have become too faded or worn to wear, put the still-wearable things into a bag for charity, put the other things into either the dress-up box, the play fabrics box, or the trash, depending on condition, and then rearrange the clothes that are left so they can be found easily especially when I'm in a hurry in the mornings.
I usually manage to find a handful of items to discard each time I go through the clothes in my closet. Short-sleeved knit shirts of the t-shirt type are among the most frequently tossed; when you live in a climate where you wear such shirts from late February to mid-November it's not all that surprising that they don't last very long. And I try to be good about getting rid of things I don't use.
But there are always things I overlook. There are always clothing items I hang on to "just in case." There are always those things I know perfectly well don't look at all good on me but keep out of stubbornness (they'll look good when I lose five more pounds! I think, even though losing five pounds will do nothing to fix the fact that the items in question are proportioned for a 5'10" woman and I'm 5'2. Almost). And, because I'm sometimes more feminine than I like to admit, there are even clothes in there that I just get sentimental about. Like a certain red cardigan which is missing a button and is starting to look rather...but let's leave that one alone.
So, like I said, it's not dangerous to clean out my closet. But what was dangerous is that when I had put everything all over the bed and was ready to begin the weeding/sorting process, I said a little prayer.
For wisdom, and discernment, and detachment. For poverty of spirit and a realistic sense of what I actually need, instead of what I merely want. To think of others and not just myself.
'Cause I've already got a good-sized pile of still-usable clothing for charity going. And I'm not finished sorting, and there are some clothes coming out of the washer and dryer that are going to get the same treatment, and I still feel like I have way too much to wear.
And I haven't even looked at the shoes, yet.
Such is the danger of a well-timed prayer; but this kind of danger is a kind I can live with.
Just don't ask me about that red cardigan. :)