One of my primary goals of my present 5-week block of Annual Leave has been to de-clutter.

I have so much junk that has been with me forever. 

I'm a hoarder.

There. I've confessed my shame.

But I don't just hoard anything. I have sentimental attachments to the things I hang on to. Every little worthless trinket has a story.

And on this Maundy Thursday, as we remember once again the Lord's grief and anguish at giving up everything that he might die for us and for the glory of the Father, I have finally listed my model trains on eBay for auction.

These little HO-scale items have no real value. For sure, there are some collectibles among them, but they are not worth a whole lot. And most of the stuff is, literally, junk. That is, junk to anyone other than me. Each half-assembled kit, each wagon missing a wheel here or a handbrake wheel there, tells a story.

So I'm going to tell the story over the next week or so of each piece. "Boring," I hear the cries from the masses.

Yup. But it's how I'm dealing with the grief of parting ways from things that do not count for eternity.

I used to be fond of quoting the missionary Jim Elliott who was famous for saying, "He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain that which he cannot lose." He was later murdered by those with whom he sought to share the words of eternal life. And, unsurprisingly, it echoes Jesus' words, such as, "

If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it. What good will it be for a man if he gains the whole world, yet forfeits his soul? Or what can a man give in exchange for his soul?" (Matt 16:24-26, NIV84) 

How that contrasts so with the bumper sticker we sold so often at the Hobby Shop I once worked in: "He who dies with the most trains wins!" I've seen how untrue that is. Not by dying, mind you! But because I've seen deceased estates. Deceased estates where the old man spent a lifetime amassing collections of unassembled kits, others fine works of craftsmanship, brass locomotives worth thousands apiece. And the relatives have no sense of the value of "dad's" or "uncle's" 'toys', and sell them at a garage sale for a pittance.

Besides, I model in N scale. I'm not abandoning modelling for some holy heavenly journey. This stuff is just surplus to my requirements. But it's been an emotional journey to part with it.

On the negative side, this is a sad critique of my materialism.

On the positive side, however, it is a reflection that each of those items has a story. A story involving people. And experiences. And events that made me who I am today.

But you know what? Apart from the random words of this blog, no one will ever know those stories, and fewer will care.

For me, it's part of 'healing'. Healing over the grief of getting rid of this junk-with-sentimental-attachment. And healing from rank, Western, materialism.

(And for those playing at home, I am not being contradictory about this materialism by 'raising money' by selling this stuff on eBay. Firstly, it won't get much money and secondly, what it will raise will go towards housing my family, because our free housing given us after the church abandoned us isn't available after October.)