by Amy Waelchli

One night, I quietly struggled to make it all fit in the small cupboard. On my hands and knees, matching each lid with the corresponding container, I marveled at the amount of reusable plastic butter containers, etc. I saved. Arranging them to be organized and accessible, I huffed and puffed my way through the chore, knowing that tomorrow it would, once again, be transformed into houses and buildings for my son’s matchbox cars. At night, however, it must be put away. Otherwise, my husband would unwittingly play Godzilla in the wee hours when he came to bed after another late-night study session for a degree that would, we prayed, bring us financial stability. I couldn’t risk him waking our tiny humans. So, I performed the chore. Again.

And again, I grumbled about needing more space for it all. (Do leftover containers multiply when your back is turned?) Not to mention, there is only one space for it. (I’d already organized every nook and cranny of our small home.) And what I was ashamed to admit, there was barely any space for me.

My life was full with two small children and all the activities accompanying their raising: doctor’s appointments, Sunday school and worship, storytime at the library, and play dates. I toiled but did not thrive as a stay-at-home mom. I was busy, dynamic, loving, and lonely. I was lonely in my identity as Mom. I was lonely with my husband, a full-time student who worked full-time. I was lonely living away from family. I was lonely for myself.

Feeling lonely in my beautiful life made me feel ashamed. How dare I be unsatisfied when my life was so full? My feelings made me so uncomfortable that I tried to fit them in the smallest, most unreachable part of myself. I didn’t want anyone to know, not even myself. The closer I came to the heart of the matter, the further I ran.

Or, in this case, I became more focused and frustrated sorting all the Tupperware.

“We need more space, God!” I yelled in a whisper.
Without missing a beat, God said to me, “Have less stuff.”

Sometimes, God just gets to the point. There’s no preamble, like when God met Elijah on Mt. Horeb. God finally appeared in silence after the wind, an earthquake, and fire. No, sometimes God’s message is plain.
Instead of keeping myself busy rearranging the leftover containers, God told me to possess less stuff.

Starting with shame
Suddenly, I saw the irony of those empty pieces of plastic that I insisted on keeping instead of recycling. If I weren’t busy with nonsense work, then I’d have plenty of space and time to unpack how I felt. Uff da, as we say in Wisconsin. God does quick, precise work.

Jesus said, “The kingdom of God is as if someone would scatter seed on the ground, and would sleep and rise night and day, and the seed would sprout and grow, he does not know how. The earth produces of itself, first the stalk, then the head, then the full grain in the head. But when the grain is ripe, he goes in with his sickle at once because the harvest has come.” Mark 4: 26-29

To date, I’ve never successfully solved a problem by avoiding it, hiding it from myself, or stacking things on top of it. Instead, the tools I use are conversations with friends, therapy sessions, time in prayer, and rest. Still, solutions to any of my problems come because God works. God works after I’ve sown seeds of hope or despair through prayer. God works while I continue the rhythm of my life. Waking, sleeping, working, praying, wanting, releasing. God works while I lose track of time. With a precise word, God reminds me that God is at work in me.

God works through me, too. Loneliness is not reserved for me, mothers, women, or Lutherans. Loneliness is a universal experience, even as it is unique to each of us. For those of us who have endured or befriended it, we’re especially equipped to help others during their times of trial. We may be seeds planted in someone else’s life that God will grow for a purpose we cannot even imagine. Or God may need us to sit with a grieving neighbor and observe the changes the earth is producing with them.

God may need us to recycle our empty containers and possess less stuff. In so doing, we unpack our hearts and souls and see that God works—has been working all along.

The Rev. Amy Waelchli is the lead pastor at Trinity Lutheran Church Lead Pastor of Trinity Lutheran Church, Fort Atkinson, Wisc. Her leadership style is collaborative and based in trust. In her free time, you can finding her reading, quilting, petting my elderly dog, and cooking with her husband, Paul. 

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