Treasure to Trash

When I was 2 years old, my family moved from Texas to Omaha, Nebraska. It was my second move in Air Force life (the first was when I was 4 months old), but it was the first move where I was semi-aware of what was happening. Like a well-trained military wife, my mother had gone through the house and collected all the things we would need for our long haul move and safely closed the items in a bathroom, telling the movers that room was off limits. Among her stored possessions were my bazillion-and-one pacifiers. I, however, didn't know that there was a safe room for our treasures. So, when the truck closed up and pulled off down the street, I ran after it, crying for my beloved pacifiers. My loving daddy, in all his wisdom, turned to my mom at that point and said, "If she thinks they are on the truck, then we will let her believe they are on the truck." Less than a week later, when the truck pulled up outside our new home, I had forgotten all about the pacifiers and never asked for one again.

I think of this story as I contemplate our upcoming move. You see, there are LOTS of things that I wouldn't mind if they didn't make it to our final destination. My kids (and my hubby) have plenty of stuff. They have so much stuff, that they wouldn't notice anything missing for a long while. My kids have so much stuff, they wouldn't be able to take a proper inventory to see if every piece of junk precious treasure makes it to Arkansas. So, as I purge through the closets, drawers, and garage, I think of my daddy's wisdom and my dear mother's patience. If they can put up with a crabby toddler who cried for her pacifier, then surly I can stand up to the emotions that surface if and when a happy meal toy forgotten treasure is discovered to be missing.