Today, I stood in my closet and realized something had finally caught up.
Three years ago, we sold our larger, custom-built home, and most of the furniture that filled it. That was the first letting go.
Then we rented for two years, living lighter, learning what we actually needed.
Less than a year ago, we bought our small 1942 home, full of character, history, and just enough space for the life we live now.
Each move peeled something away.
Except my clothes.
They kept traveling with me, holding onto versions of myself I wasn’t living anymore. Not because I needed them, and not because my closet was small, but because I wasn’t quite ready yet.
This year, I threw away the scale. And today, standing in that closet, I could see how much measuring was still hanging there.
So I didn’t rush. I didn’t purge.
I stood still and asked God for clarity, not control.
What stayed fits my real days. Ordinary days. Grandkid days. Comfortable, faith filled days.
What’s left in that closet is everything I own—for all seasons—and I’m okay with that.
There’s a quiet relief in knowing I don’t need more options to feel secure. I don’t need backup versions of myself waiting in the wings. What I have is enough for the life I’m living.
I didn’t let go because I ran out of space.
I let go because I’m ready for less—less stress, fewer decisions, less to manage.
This body isn’t something I’m managing until it changes. It’s the one God entrusted to me.
I’m learning to dress the body God entrusted to me today, not the one I keep promising I’ll earn later.
This is Held, Not Measured lived out slowly, choosing trust over tallying, and allowing my space, my clothes, and my life to finally align.
Comments
3 responses
I’m going to clean out my closet, soon!
This makes me want to look through my clothes and simplify my options. Love this 💕
Love this, Michelle! 🩷