The Tale of the Sock Drawer

 

Where did they all come from?  Do socks have some inherent trait that causes them to multiply like rabbits in the privacy of the sock drawer?  

So many socks. Black socks.  White socks.  Gray socks.  Multi-colored socks.  So many socks.

How many socks does one woman need?  Not this many would be the correct answer!  

Yesterday, after thinking about it and putting it off for a while, I decided to clean out my sock drawer. Oh. My. Word. 

And that over-stuffed sock drawer doesn't even contain all the seasonal socks, with their Christmas trees and autumn leaves and pumpkins. Nor does it contain all the compression socks that were part of my knee replacement journey.

Where did all those socks come from? The answer, of course, is obvious. I put those socks in the drawer.  And I continued to buy new socks while never discarding any of the old, worn out, no-longer-with-a-mate socks.  

I must bear responsibility for the mess in the sock drawer. Just as I must bear responsibility for the clutter in the pantry that leads to too many cans of this and not enough of that. Just as I must bear responsibility for too many of the almost-identical, same-color shirts that hang in my closet. And just as I must bear responsibility for all the books on our overloaded bookshelves and tucked into every nook and cranny around the house. Well, that really isn't the same thing, is it?  (I'm sure every book lover will agree with me!)

I'm not sure I rise to the level of being called a "sock hoarder", but I may be getting dangerously close!  I really had no idea there were so many socks in that drawer. I should have counted them, but I probably would have been shocked at the number, and then far too embarrassed to share the number with you!

The sock drawer looks much neater now. The number of socks is manageable. The worn-out socks, the I-never-even-wear-these socks, the I-don't-even-like-these, and these-don't-even-fit socks have all been discarded.

How did my sock drawer get to be such a mess? The answer is simple, really. It happened because I wasn't paying attention.

Not paying attention leads to clutter in the sock drawer. And in the pantry. And in the closet.

In the same way, not paying attention leads to clutter in our minds as well. Unless we make careful, deliberate choices - about what we read, about what we watch, about what we listen to - our minds can end up as cluttered as my sock drawer.

I need to pay attention to what I put into my sock drawer, and I need to remember to take out what isn't needed.

It's a life principle, really. Pay attention. Not just to the sock drawer or the pantry, but to what goes into your mind.  

Remember that old computer saying?  GIGO.  Garbage In/Garbage Out.  

Think about that next time you pick up a book or a magazine, or the next time you sign onto social media.  Think about that the next time you start to watch a television show or something on Netflix. Think about that when you're choosing music for your playlist.

Don't let your mind end up as cluttered as my sock drawer.  Fill it with good things instead.

"Finally brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, dwell on these things."  (Philippians 4:8 NASB)

My sock drawer had some good things in it. Some nice socks. Some socks that fit well. Some socks that were useful. But it also had some things that didn't need to be there. The clutter made it hard to discern which was which, so a clean-up was needed.

Taking time to clean up our thinking - to declutter our minds - is even more important than cleaning out a sock drawer.

Do you have any clutter you need to deal with today?


"Create in me a clean hear, O God." (Psalm 51:10)