Dumpster beginnings

Today a big dumpster landed on the grass alongside our driveway. We have hired a construction team to transform our basement, making our home ready for my parents to share it with us. And the construction began with a big, empty dumpster.

It’s a vivid symbol that when we are making a transition, some things have to get tossed out. What do I want to strip away and throw out to be ready for what is ahead: my need for privacy? my demand that my parents remain a robust and active instead of deteriorating with age?

This dumpster brings to mind a theological term:

kenosis

emptying out, as in: did Jesus empty himself of his divinity to participate in our humanity? Here is an explanation from The Episcopal Church Glossary.

All weekend we emptied out our basement to be ready for the construction crew to arrive today. I swept up so much fine sawdust (from our days raising baby chicks) from the work room corners that I had trouble sleeping for all the wheezing last night… nothing a few well placed pillows couldn’t solve.

Meanwhile, my mom is in Arizona winnowing down her collection of purses in preparation to move.

Every choice in life is part promise, part cost.

And so we empty.