Who will clean up after you?

My husband and I went to brunch on Sunday morning. We found a little diner where everyone seemed to know each other, except us. It almost felt like we were intruding on their private party. We watched the incoming and outgoing tides of hand shakes, shoulder slaps, and waves.

In a nearby booth sat a woman with two children. A small toddler sat in a high chair, smiling at everyone and feeding scrambled egg to the furniture and floor around her rather than to herself. An older girl (maybe 10) sat quietly eating her breakfast, paging through an "American Girl Doll" catalog, and watching all the customers stop to coo at the baby girl. I eyed the woman a few times, trying to determine if she were a young grandmother or a mature mother.

When their breakfast had ended, the older girl got out of their booth. I never heard the lady ask the older girl to do anything. I suppose her actions were her own. The big sister started using her hands to sweep up the scrambled egg that her baby sister had pushed to the floor. Gently and thoroughly she gathered the pieces and piled them on the dirty dishes. I watched her and wondered. Most children that age would probably have had a fit if someone had asked them to clean up after someone else. Most children would not have thought to do it at all without being asked by someone. It was such a simple act, but I realized she was not only cleaning up after her little sister, but also making less work for the staff during a busy breakfast shift.

I had already planned my Sunday activity for my return home. We have a new headboard arriving soon for our master bedroom. (This will be installed so I can have something on which to lean while recovering after surgery.) In order for the new furniture to fit our small room, we have to rearrange furniture. This meant cleaning and sorting 15 years worth of clothing and collectibles and clutter. I spent hours looking at things and having to decide whether to keep, donate, or trash each piece. With my pending hysterectomy, I know that I am the person who has to decide the fate of my belongings. There will be no heirs to have that assignment in years to come.

My childhood home still sits unoccupied in my old hometown. Dad has been gone since February of this year. My siblings and I are gradually clearing out old belongings. (There is no rush to sell in such a bad housing market.) Our family was in that house since 1957. So much of what we found in the attic had been boxed up years before and moved from other ancestral homes. Without my mother around to tell us the history or sentimental value of things, we can only guess what might have a story. We have to make decisions.

What about you? What surrounds you and steals your peace? Is it something that someone else threw down mindlessly? Were you asked to clean it up? Did you choose to take it on without being asked? Should you clear it away to do yourself a favor? Must you take action because it is your turn? Sometimes we find ourselves in a place where we do not want to be the ones to make things right. We would rather close our eyes and wish the clutter away.

Make a decision. You shall find greater peace when you are not surrounded.