On Using Limited Space Efficiently (Part 4: Maintain Tidiness Daily)

Let’s assume you’ve followed the advice in my previous posts and have created a ruthlessly downsized and well-organized space.  Great!  But in limited spaces, a little untidiness that might be overlooked in a big house will seem messier and will get in your way.  The only way to keep your home presentable and maneuverable is through daily maintenance—to ensure everything stays in its place, out of the way, when it’s not in use.

Ideally, a home would be pristine.

In reality, we have to live, right?  We have papers and ongoing projects we want to put our hands on easily, clothes we want to wear again that don’t belong in the drawer or the laundry basket, and borrowed items we want to by the door so we’ll remember to return them.

As a solution, one must find a compromise between necessity and space; keep your space neat, but accept that some messes will have to remain, gobbling up space.  Most importantly, if you see a mess, fix it then, not later (assuming you’ve no guests or appointments who would find your timing inappropriate).  This habitual tidiness requires discipline—first to learn to spot problems and then to have the strength of will to delay previous intentions to take care of it.  (I can’t claim consistent mastery of this solution, but it is effective when I apply it!)

Develop habits such as follow:

When you change clothes, set them in the laundry basket or in a single spot to be worn a second time rather than scattered across the bed and floor.  

During meal preparation or after you’ve eaten, wash the dishes as soon as possible.  

You may need to have piles of reading material or papers laying around—but make sure they’re neat piles, set out of the way.  Be sure to keep bills in a separate area so you can’t lose them below other piles and neglect to attend to them!

Start projects in a space you won’t need for a while, work efficiently, and clean up as soon as you’re done so you can clear the space for other uses.  

    If you start consuming a bottled drink or a snack, make a point of placing the unfinished item in only one or two easily-findable places.  Then, discipline yourself to not start a new bottle or snack until you’ve found and finished any already-open ones and until you’ve put old empty containers in the trash or recycle bin.

Take out the trash and recyclables promptly!  Not only does this keep your house more sanitary and better smelling, it also reduces clutter.

If you notice dust has gathered heavily over your vents or that someone has tracked in mud or sand, clean it up then, not later.

Good luck, and keep it up!

On Using Limited Space Efficiently (Part 3: Get creative with storage and room layout)

When you’ve downsized as much as possible, and all the stuff you have is stuff you use or will use in short order, the final method to fit it all into a limited space is to get creative with the layout of your storage and rooms.  Thankfully, Joel and I set up our living room efficiently the first time, but we’ve had to rearrange the kitchen and closets to make better use of the spaces.

            Ideally, people would get furniture that makes the best use of the space, and put them in the most spacious and useful arrangement.  Similarly, we’d tuck belongings into easily-accessible yet out-of-the way compartments.

In reality, furniture isn’t cheap, and we may be stuck with hand-me-downs that don’t fit our space.  Furnishings and homes are also not always designed with efficiency in mind; stoves or fridges may impede access to certain cabinets, and beds may not be designed to allow storage underneath.  Also, attractive and useful storage containers cost money, and experimenting with the wrong ones can get expensive, especially if the store doesn’t accept returns.

Solution—to get creative with your space, consider adding nets hanging from the ceiling, building shelves on the walls, and double stacking books on a bookshelf.  Be open to unusual placements, and take note of every surface that you could possibly use—don’t forget the tops of bookshelves and fridges and ledges above doors to display knick-knacks that you’re not ready to part with, or to store pots or baskets.  Choose storage devices that can do double duty with items inside and on top (e.g. avoid bins or boxes with rounded tops), and when choosing kitchenware, go for stackable items.  Measure spaces (and write them down) before buying containers to fill them, and remember to bring a tape measure to the store or to read size descriptions on boxes.  Get permanent or semi-permanent hooks for your walls to hang everything from hats and coats to stuffed animals, pots, oven mitts, and alarm clocks.

As further examples, in a choice between two types of glass measuring cups, go for the ones with handles that don’t connect at the bottom; they will stack more easily inside each other or inside a bowl with the handle able to rest on the outside.  Set small items inside larger items when possible, such as extra dish towels or small appliances inside rarely-used, oversized soup pots or crock pots.  Buy stackable storage drawers; you can always use more or fewer to fit a different space.  Bed-risers work on some beds to increase storage underneath, but you might also consider investing in a new frame or in more slender storage drawers to fit underneath the current one.

A place for everything and everything in its place.

On Using Limited Space Efficiently (Part 2: Go Paperless)

The modern world has produced a plethora of gadgets to make our lives easier—and one of the greatest is the computer in all its incarnations.  With a cell phone, a laptop, and perhaps an external hard drive, one can do all manner of things that otherwise require paper, which takes up a fair amount of space in one’s home.  Thus, if you want to regain some elbow room, go paperless.

Ideally, we’d all take tech classes as needed so we can use email, buy e-books, manage finances electronically, and store documents and notes-to-self on a gadget or in free “cloud” storage services.  Most sites take great pain to keep information secure, and this will save you a great deal of shelf and cabinet space.

In reality, buying e-books of every physical book a person owns can be economically prohibitive, and not everyone’s eyes feel comfortable reading from a screen—though the basic Kindle or Kindle Paperwhite were created to fix this problem.  Furthermore, while a single Kindle or Nook can store hundreds of books, one can’t scan or flip through a reference work very efficiently.  Also, not all utilities and companies offer online billing, and people can forget passwords or accidentally delete important information.  (In counter-argument, we can also loose or launder paper documents, so it doesn’t seem like that much more of a risk to me.)

Musicians also don’t yet have a good way to store and play off of electronic sheet music, so they’d still need to keep their music books. (Though wouldn’t it be cool if a pianist could set a large iPad before him and tap the screen to turn pages forward and back—or better yet, a program that could hear what you played and turn pages for the musician!?  A single device could store thousands of sheet music PDFs!)

The solution, as always, is to compromise.  Whenever you wish to make a new purchases of fiction, get the e-book version.  When you have the money, buy e-book versions of your physical fiction books, and then sell the physical copies.  However, keep your reference books and perhaps certain pieces of classic literature with lots of footnotes, which often have poor navigation in digital formats.  Similarly, read newspapers and magazines online if possible, or recycle old papers and mags after reading them (or after you realize you won’t get around to reading them).  If you tear out and save stories you particularly liked, they’ll take up far less space in a folder than the entire periodical will.

Definitely get on your bank’s and other place’s billing websites and set up direct deposit and automatic payments.  This, as an added bonus, ensures you’ll never get a late fee!

Example

When I got my Kindle, I acquired free editions of many classic works so I could ditch redundant volumes from our shelves.  (We gained one shelf back—but since the books were double shelved, it doesn’t seem like it.)  I’ve not bought a physical fiction book since then except for other people.  However, I’ve found that poetry is often poorly formatted on the Kindle, and footnotes aren’t always linked well to the text.  (For example, The Canterbury Tales was nearly unreadable, but I didn’t own it in hard copy before, and it was free, so it was no loss to me; I could have returned the book if it had been a problem.).  I’ve kept my physical dictionaries, my Bibles, and mom’s notated copy of Shakespeare’s plays since I like the notes and my ability to flip through them quickly.  I recycle what mail and most other papers we don't need.  Unfortunately, I’m a great note-taker and a poor note take-carer, so I have piles of notes I need to go through and possibly input in the computer.  At least they’re neat piles so far... I whittle them down about once a year when a fit of organization comes upon me.

          Anyway, you get the picture.  Good luck!

On Patience

Though my temper has improved with age, I still don’t consider myself particularly patient.  I struggle to press on when I can’t “get” mathematics, complete a project just right, or comprehend some techno-jargon I need to help me accomplish something on the computer.  I “tire” inexplicably quickly or find myself blurting angry and sometimes inappropriate words, or I simply give up or ask someone else to see to it.  If that’s not an option, I may take a little break to get over my impatient huff before I try, try again, accompanied by more muttering and an increasing desire to break things.

Similarly, I struggle to be polite when people approach me to make extended small talk with whom I did not wish to form an acquaintance or when I am clearly attempting to read.  I also find it hard to be a polite, patient listener with people who rehash the same topic multiple times in one conversation or who inevitably veer every conversation into their uninteresting hobbies or boasts.  

As a child, I also felt impatient with adult conversations that excluded me but that still required my presence nearby.  Regrettably, I did not display this impatience very subtly: those times when shyness didn’t prevent me, I’d pull my mom’s hand or whine “I want to go!”  As I got older, that turned into subtle pokes or toe-trodding accompanied by significant glances, a finger pointed at a clock, or a suggestive yawn.  

(I congratulate myself that I can now last much longer--and actually enjoy the company--more than I ever did, and when it’s time to go, I’ve (mostly) learned the polite hints and phrases that (I hope) do not give offense when I take my leave.  Unfortunately, my patience still dwindles and I neglect my company whenever I’m too eager to escape them to work on a project or read a book.  I must work on this.)

Historically, with the exception of mathematics, I’ve had the least patience with interruptions to my solitude, particularly when reading.  Thankfully, my mother’s and husband’s training of me has civilized my tongue and behavior a great deal, but it remains a frequent struggle.

Given my obvious flaws in this area, I felt surprised when, some time ago, my boss commented on my work with a certain student and remarked that I had “the patience of Job.”  

I do?  Huh!

Naturally, I felt quite flattered by the compliment, but it seemed to me I’d simply done what I’d been hired to do; I hadn’t thought my patience extraordinary or even difficult.  The compliment also made me feel a twinge of guilt, for I keenly remembered how, in various other circumstances, I felt terribly impatient and not remotely Job-like.  

This set me wondering about what had made the difference in my attitude.  Obviously, it wasn’t a knowledge that impatience was wrong and unloving; I’d been taught that since childhood, and a part of me had always acknowledged my impatient words and actions as wrong even as I did them.  Experience testified that impatience never glorifies God, edifies others, or makes me feel better about a situation, but the knowledge could rarely curb my impatience completely.  How, then, was I patient in certain circumstances, and how could I make myself more patient in others?

On reflection, I immediately noticed that I turn impatient when my expectations and desires are thwarted, and then when my selfish wish to progress to some situation other than reality turns me resentful, irritable, hasty, and short-tempered toward the things and people before me.  

Conversely, I noticed that my impatience fades away when, during an unwelcome interruption or setback or delay, I take a breath to seek God’s perspective and to then alter my expectations according to His priorities and to the present circumstance.  

In other words, to obtain patience, I have to first relinquish my death-grip on my original desire; rather than selfishly regretting my own neglected desires, I have to focus on the other people involved, being considerate and extending God’s love toward them.  If I face a task rather than people, God still expects me to seek and share His eternal perspective on it so that my attitude can be right and patient before Him and any witnesses.

The kind of patience this selfless submission produces is nothing like the forced grin-and-bear-it attitude of someone who knows she should be patient but who still harbors resentment about it.  Acceptance of God’s will and of reality produce a true contentment in all circumstances, such as Paul describes (2 Cor. 12:10, Phil. 4:11).  It works—and I find myself able to address the person or task before me with more grace and patience—because when I submit and change my goals in that way, the situation appears as part of my plan rather than an interruption or barrier to it.

Perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised that the key to patience turns out to be the same as many other Christian virtues: selflessness.  I should have remembered that “Love is patient...” (1 Cor. 13:4), for love is by definition other-centered rather than self-centered: it considers and works to meet other people’s needs rather than our own needs and to obey God’s will rather than our own will.   

I sure am thankful for the Lord’s patience!  “The Lord is not slow to fulfill his promise as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance” (2 Peter 3:9).  In the same way, I know I should strive to be more patient (Rom.12:12, 1 Thes. 5:14).

When I feel I haven’t the strength to give up my own desires, I try to remember (not always successfully) that selflessness gets easier with practice, so I coax myself to practice just this once--just once more--and again... and thankfully, we have a God who is quite willing to help us if we only ask Him.. and don’t reject His help...  

Yeeaaaah... maybe I’ll master patience by the time I’m ninety.

This is an extended, personalized version of a devotional to appear Monday on my church's blog at http://firstcongregationalhutch.wordpress.com/.

On the Definition of a Christian

What does it mean to be "Christian"?  So many people bandy that term around or apply it to themselves or to people groups in general without understanding it.

• Someone who does good deeds and helps Christian charities is not necessarily a Christian.
• Someone who is remarkably loving is not necessarily a Christian.
• Someone who lives in America or in a particular region is not necessarily a Christian.
• Someone who has Christian parents is not necessarily a Christian.
• Someone who does not adhere to another faith is not necessarily a Christian.
• Someone who calls himself a Christian is not necessarily a Christian.
• Someone who regularly attends church services is not necessarily a Christian.
• Someone who believes in God and reads the Bible is not necessarily a Christian.
• Someone who knows and esteems Jesus’s teachings is not necessarily a Christian.

Rather,

• “Christian” literally means a Christ follower—someone who believes and obeys Jesus’s teachings from scripture... Not just on Sundays.  Not just sometimes.  Always.  (Though our human nature makes perfect obedience impossible for us.)
• “Christian” refers to a person who has asked for and trusts Jesus’s ability to forgive and save him from the eternal consequence of his rebellion against God’s authority.
• "Christian" refers to a person with God's Holy Spirit within him.
• “Christian” refers to a person who lives his life for God and not himself.  (This is radically different from that of the secular world where people only look out for themselves and perhaps their loved ones.  And again, no Christian is perfectly selfless, but they strive to be.) 
• “Christian” refers to a person who is holy—set apart for God’s sacred purpose, which is to glorify God in the world through the way one lives—not necessarily as a missionary or preacher, but as an ordinary follower every moment.  Whether one is sweeping the house or dealing with a difficult customer or coping with the loss of a loved one, the Christian seeks to have the Holy Spirit’s influence show in his life.  

Thus, to be Christian requires total commitment to Jesus.  It requires guts.  It requires faith—as well as faithfulness.

Non-believers who have formed general opinions about Christ based on people they believe to be Christians may need to reevaluate the truth of those claims and opinions, understanding that even real Christians may sometimes fail to show evidence of Jesus’ redemption in their lives.  Similarly, the “Christians” who consider Christ only on Sundays may need to reevaluate whether they really are what they claim to be.  If they wish to be Christ’s followers, perhaps they need to reevaluate the way they live their lives.

As Oswald Chambers wrote in My Utmost for His Highest, “A spiritually vigorous saint never… [thinks] of his life as being divided into the secular and the sacred... he has an attitude of unrestrained abandon and total surrender about him... Self-realization only leads to the glorification of good works, whereas a saint of God glorifies Jesus Christ through his good works” (July 11).

How do you view "Christians"?  Write your answers in the comments below.

On Using Limited Space Efficiently (Part 1: Don’t Be a Packrat)

            My husband and I have spent the last five years living in a one-bedroom, 500-square-foot house.  We’ve made this cozy space workable... and it has taken work.  In the process of rearranging out kitchen and closets and making room for new items, we’ve learned a few tricks about using a limited space efficiently, which I’ll highlight in this and three future posts.

The first tip should be obvious: Don’t be a packrat.  

Ideally, we’d sell, give away, or trash whatever we don’t use without letting sentimentality or the feeble “but I may use it later” get in the way.  Imagine how spartain our homes would become!

            In reality, I know very few who can live up to this ideal.  For one thing, a poor or middle-class person should hang onto those extra 3M Command hooks and ball of twine and decorative stationery etc. because its economically unsound to use part, get rid of the rest, and buy more when needed.  

Furthermore, while we may manage to be minimalist in one area (our clothing, our library, our notes, our knickknacks, our technology, our kitchen appliances, our furniture, our games, our shiny bits of paper...), we often cling to belongings in other areas (same list) though some serve no purpose other than to jog memories, to show off, or to allay our guilt for buying or receiving the items in the first place.

            Unfortunately, many packrats don’t believe they are packrats—or don’t believe it’s possible to downsize their possessions.  Fortunately, most people without an OCD can be cured.  

Solving this begins in the mind with a brutally honest appraisal of one’s belongings and hoarding tendencies.  Once we’ve acknowledged the area of immoderation, we have to change the way we think about those items—to reevaluate their worth to us (from God’s perspective, ideally)—and only then can we successfully work to improve our habits.

Then, as a compromise, be minimalist where you can and, at least yearly, reevaluate your favored belongings and clear them out as ruthlessly as you can.  

• If you have acquired a plethora of items—rubber bands, twist ties, store coat hangers, etc—save only a few just in case you need them, but get rid of the excess.   
• Gift sentimental mementos to family and friends who will appreciate their meaning and who have the space and interest to make use of them.   
• Gift quality items to a charity to avoid guilt over the waste, and reuse worn items, turning them into art projects or rags... or simply throw them away.   
• If you can’t bear to part with things you don’t use, you could put them in storage after labeling the box something like “Goodwill,” “family,” or “trash.”  Then if you haven’t longed for the contents or can’t remember them after a year, deliver the box to the labeled recipient without opening it.
• I encourage book, newspaper, and magazine hoarders to go paperless (more on that in the next post).  
• Get rid of movies you rarely watch, and only buy new movies you plan to watch every year; if you only want to see a film once in a blue moon, rent it or get Netflix.
• A note to clothes and shoe hoarders--if you consider seventy tops and ten pairs of shoes “necessary,” consider that once upon a time (and in a few places today), most people had two changes of clothes and maybe a third for Sundays.  I point that out to show it can be done, not to urge you to reduce your wardrobe by that much; it makes sense to keep at least a week’s worth of clothes for both summer and winter, for slim and fat periods if your weight fluctuates frequently, and for varied levels of formality.  Still, no one would/should look down on you for wearing the same outfit more than once a month!  If you keep your wardrobe versatile, you can dress well without needing as many items, so downsize!  Keep pieces you can mix and match to make different outfits, and keep only a few shoe styles in colors that work with any outfit.

Examples

I had collected over fifty teddy bears by my senior year of high school, but their value changed in my eyes as I grew older.  Still, they stimulated nostalgia and looked so cute, I had a hard time with the idea of parting from them.  I brought two to college and, later, to my home.  The rest I went through perhaps once a year to choose ones that will go to kids at the Topeka Rescue Mission.  The rest I kept bagged in my parents’ basement until the next year I could evaluate them and part with a few more.  I made the final cut this last year, giving yet more to the Rescue Mission and those with meaning—several my late grandpa gave me—to some of my young second cousins who could love them and appreciate the connection to Grandpa.  Only a few remain with sentimental value, which I’ve asked my parents to keep for visiting grandchildren, should God grant them.

             As another self-deprecating example, during junior high or high school, my mom finally made me realize (through an ultimatum) that I was hoarding shiny candy wrappers only for the pitiful reason that they looked too pretty to throw out.  She forced me to reconsider whether I really needed them.  Though I couldn’t completely change the way I valued them, I did finally use the “trash” to make a collage, which is displayed in my childhood church’s abandoned youth room to this day where somebody, someday, will surely throw it away.  But at least it won’t be me, and I still have photographs of it.  Since then, I’ve improved that habit of mine, so I now throw out candy wrappers instead of hoarding them—with a slight pang for the pretty ones, but I can still do it.   

           You can do this kind of thing, too!

           I’ll address other methods of managing tight spaces in later posts, but the first step is to decrease the amount of stuff one owns.