Most folks I know have a junk drawer, and I’m no different. The first drawer closest to the kitchen door is the one – and a not long ago, it refused to open. At first I ignored this inconvenience, but in a fairly short time I realized that although the contents of my junk drawer are a random assemblage of uncategorized “stuff”, I open it a lot. Because you never know. The odd thing I’m looking for just might be in there.

When the unavailable contents of my junk drawer began to really torment me, I stuck my head underneath the cabinet to see if I could fix the problem. The drawer had simply fallen off its “track,” and needed to be pulled out completely and set right. It took awhile, but I finally removed it.

When I did, I decided it would be a good time to take inventory of my junk. Everything was in full view with the drawer out – even the stuff at the back that I hadn’t seen in, well, years.

Stuff like an unopened deck of playing cards – cellophane wrapper still intact. A half-used roll of duct tape. A few petrified pieces of Halloween candy. My dog’s first tiny puppy collar, just big enough for my own wrist. A Polaroid photo of an old friend and me – taken in a living room I didn’t recognize. Three glue sticks, all half-used. Snippets of ribbon and two packages of dark brown shoe strings. (I don’t own any dark brown lace ups.)

Then it struck me what these random things had in common: I didn’t need any of them, but at some point, I couldn’t make myself throw them away.

My heart has a junk drawer, too. I wish it would get stuck more often.

I visit it when I’m looking for reasons why God shouldn’t love me. When I feel lonely or useless or discouraged. And I find odd pieces of my own history that shouldn’t matter anymore, but sometimes do – some of them far older than a few candy pieces gone bad.

Secret sins, confessed – forgiven – but not yet removed from inventory. Words I wish I’d never spoken. Words I wish I had. Failures. Lapses in kindness. Moments of misplaced shame. Old hurts I still pick the scabs from. Scars I like too much.

I don’t need any of it. God’s done with it. It’s long been forgiven, or redeemed, or transformed, but still I hold on. It’s junk. And the next time this invisible drawer gets stuck, I should let it stay that way. I can do without its contents, and simply decide to forget.

“Formerly, when you did not know God, you were slaves to those who by nature are not gods. But now that you know God – or rather are known by God – how is it that you are turning back to those weak and miserable principles? Do you wish to be enslaved by them all over again?” (Galatians 4:8-9, NIV)

“Therefore if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!” (II Corinthians 5:17, NIV)

© Leigh McLeroy, 2006