PREPARING TO DIE 4: STUFF [T, 1-18-22]

CHRIST IN WINTER: Reflections on Faith & Life for the Years of Winter

In a “Call the Midwife” TV show we watched recently, an old lady could no longer live by herself. She needed to go to a “home.” But her house was “stuffed” from floor to ceiling. The nurse could barely get in to find her. She refused to leave her “stuff.” It was what gave her life meaning. But stuff is just stuff. “You can’t take it with you,” as the old saying goes. If we are getting our meaning from our stuff, we are not prepared to die. Indeed, one reason we hang onto stuff is as a form of denial; I still need the stuff because I am not going to die.

We need to learn to let go of the stuff. I know that sounds preachy, and I’m not supposed to be preachy in this column. But sometimes we need reminders. This is one of those times—let the stuff go!

Sure, we need to keep the coffee pot. And underwear. And fuzzy slippers for winter. Otherwise, let it go.

We need to pass stuff on now to those for whom it will have meaning now, as well as later. As we go through old photos and documents, I find an aunt or a friend who is precious to me, but I need to send it to their children. [That is also a gift to my children, so that they don’t have to do it.]

Or if there is no intrinsic meaning in a piece of stuff for someone else when we are gone, we need to give it to someone who can get good from it now. I have finally accepted that I shall never shoot baskets again. My bad shoulders won’t let me. Yes, I got a lot of enjoyment out of that ball, and it bounces full of good memories, but I need to give that ball to some kid, so that they can get fun memories, too. We are not prepared to die if we are possessed by our possessions 

My friend, Bob, has a library of thousands of books, really good books. It would take his children a dozen cars and a dozen weeks to get rid of those, so he has arranged with the local food bank to take them. It’s a good solution. They have a huge book sale every year, to make money to buy food for the needy, and, also, they have a big truck!

We need some stuff right up to the day we die, of course. Like teeth. That’s what my dentist always tells me when I say I don’t need to make regular visits to her since I’ll die soon, anyway. She may have an alternative motive, like wanting to hear my stories over and over, but she has a persuasive argument. Books and mementoes are not in the same category as teeth, but a few of those are just as necessary for me to keep reading and looking at right up to the end.

John Robert McFarland