I had a very interesting weekend recently. I went to Dallas, Texas, and met up with my three sisters to clean out the house of my second cousin, who died earlier this year at the age of 77. She was a wonderful, faithful, PC(USA) woman who has always been kind to us, but who had no other close living relatives. My older sister is the executor of her estate.

Last Fall, I went to visit her at her assisted living community. We had a raucous time playing bingo with a few of her rowdy friends. Our table embarrassingly won 5 of the 7 games played that day. We laughed hysterically. It was a good time. Her health declined considerably soon thereafter.

This visit was no laughing matter. This wonderful woman was a bit of a hoarder (15 calculators, hundreds and hundreds of greeting cards and 5 blenders, as examples). We loaded 2 dumpsters in less than two days and gathered items for donation. We uncovered parts of her personality which were quite endearing, as well as multiple levels of family dysfunction and broken relationships. It was all very, very human. As I worked, I tried hard to withhold judgement, to see her and understand her better. I fell in love with her and appreciated her even more, in all her humanity — even in 92 degree temps!

I am left with several thoughts and questions, though: What do our belongings say about us and the lives we have lived? What are we leaving behind that others will see? How can we make our leaving easier for others in our wake, especially those who oversee managing our “things”?

Matthew 6:25-34 comes to mind, addressing needless worry concerning what we will wear or what we have. Easy for me to say, though. This beloved of God was obviously lonely. Maybe she had forgotten she had multiple versions of the same things. Or maybe she was worried she wouldn’t be able to get what she needed, given that her mobility was greatly reduced.

This relative, we’ll call Jane, loved animals (we interred the remains of 3 of her cats), her church, and her friends. That is clear. She had worked for an airline and had been a world traveler, appreciating many cultures around the globe. She also loved us. When I was in elementary school, she invited me to sleep over in her dorm at SMU during one visit. When I adopted my daughter, she welcomed her into the family with such love and grace.

All these years later, I arrived home after this trip determined to clean out my basement, yet one more time, getting rid of all the things I thought I needed at one time, but now don’t. I want to make sure I don’t someday leave my daughter with a load too great to handle.

In the meantime, I am grateful for the life of my cousin. May she rest in the everlasting arms of God’s love and experience the peace which passes all understanding.