Stuff. We all have it. Some of us can’t get enough. We buy stuff, sell stuff, hoard stuff, collect stuff, give stuff away. George Carlin did an entire comedy routine about his stuff. But it’s just stuff, right? If given the choice between our family and our stuff we would easily give up our stuff. It is, after all, just stuff.
But what would you do if you lost your stuff? All of it. Gone.
This past week my in-laws lost their home to a house fire. They had just purchased this house two months prior. It was their retirement home. Although they weren’t fully moved in yet they had already connected their heart to the house. It was their home. They had put THEIR STUFF in it. In a matter of thirty minutes the entire house was ruined and everything in it. Forty-plus years of a marriage, raising kids, and grandchildren were up in smoke.
We wandered through the house looking at David’s little league team photos lying on the garage floor with soot rubbed around the edges, Max’s toy guns, Lucy’s Barbie doll, wedding pictures, school day mementos, Christmas decorations made in kindergarten, books from long ago — all destroyed. Some reeking of smoke, others destroyed by water, others a pile of ash, and the chant begins; “it is just stuff”.
Is it though? Our stuff. The crap that we fill our houses with is part of who we are – it is an extension of ourselves. Even the native in a remote village in some foreign land has established a homestead of some kind. He has stuff. He has a hut, a bowl, a bed, a knife – stuff. If he were to lose his stuff he would feel just as violated as my inlaws feel right now.
We are so quick to be righteous when we talk about our material belongings. We are pious about it. We all claim not to care about our stuff. But, we really do care. We spend a lifetime collecting it, shaping it, making it our own. It helps define our footprint in this world. Our stuff grounds us and makes us feel safe. Our stuff is a security buffer between us and the world. When your stuff is violently taken away from you, you are left feeling vulnerable.
My precious inlaws are fine. Nobody was hurt. The house will be rebuilt and new stuff will be accumulated. It is, after all, just stuff.
Love this, Beth. Beautifully written. So true. It is just “stuff,” but we do have value placed in it. Every time the tornado sirens go off, I stop and think… ok what would I grab?
My prayers are with you guys!
Oh Bethie. Thank you for giving voice to some of my feelings. Even if I blogged, which I don’t, I wouldn’t be able to sort our my feelings right now! You’ve helped. The things I’m saddest about are the hundreds of little notes, cards and things madeand given to me by Paul and David and by my sweet grandchildren. Those, along with letters from my family and grandmother from many years ago, can’t be replaced. Also, a collection of 39 years of cards, notes and letters of appreciation from parents of children at Tanglewood Learning Center, our much loved pre-school and childcare center in Nacogdoches. I’ll never be able to remember all of them, but when I think of that folder from now on, I’ll know what they said and it will make my heart sing again. As a person of the Christian faith, I keep thinking of the song “My Hope is in Thee” and that is where I leave this big mess that is too much to think about today, with God. Thank you sweet Bethie for all your love ans support.
Mom
Glad everyone is ok. Lots to think about here.
I was searching for images today of photo’s that were destroyed in fire, flood, or bad weather when I came accross a photo from your blog. Sept. 21 is my birthday, and so I decided to read what you had posted. I hope and pray everyone is doing well, and I although all that “stuff” was lost in your in-laws fire, I’m sure they still miss some of the things they once had. You’re in my prayers.