I begun packing a few days ago. Getting laundry done, making lists, putting cloths in piles ect ect. Im usually a last minute packer, but Im trying to be more organized this time.
Packing for 9 months can be hard. We wont get to do laundry often, so I want to bring enough that I wont smell rank, but I don’t want to bring too many things. I don’t want to be the girl that brings everything she owns, but I don’t want to have too little either.
I sit in the spare bedroom with all my cloths neatly organized in piles, which is very unlike me. I realize how much more stuff I have accumulated since the spring. Im discussed by how many cloths I have.
Does God love me anymore because I have lots of cloths? No. Does He love me any less because I have lots of cloths? No. They are just cloths.
“Let me not be blind with privilege
Give me eyes to see the pain
Let the blessing You’ve
poured out on me
Not be spent on me in vain
Let this life be used for change”
(Starfield)
I am privileged. God has blessed me. I can go out and buy a new shirt when I like to. I can go out to eat for lunch, like I did today. Im thankful for the life I have but I don’t want to take advantage of it. And Im willing to lose it if God asks me to.
