Making Something of Everything

I’ve been on a real making-something-out-of-everything kick lately. No, really. I mean everything. I think it has a lot to do with our prep for a yard sale last weekend. After just a few days of tagging things, I started looking at everything in our home in light of its yard sale potential.

Or maybe I’m guilty of watching too many episodes of Supernatural (as if there is such a thing!). Nine out of every 10 episodes are set in an old, abandoned house, just brimming with obtainium. Thank goodness we’re watching the series on Netflix so I can back up and see what I missed while distracted by the piles of old furniture, just begging for a fresh coat of paint.

Another example: our 12-year-old refrigerator died last week and, before the delivery guys came to haul away the old one, I gutted it, removing every drawer and bin, figuring I could use them to hold craft supplies or for under-bed storage, and maybe get my husband to attach some of the smaller ones to the wall in our utility closet for those annoying odds and ends.

Still don’t believe I’m teetering on the edge of crafty vs crazy? Look what I pulled out of my purse following our vacation last month:

bottles before

I snagged these babies after a pit stop at Cracker Barrel (and yes, there were more people than just me eating food that involved syrup). Tiny things make me happy. So do containers. Thus, tiny containers are almost irresistible. And look what I made out of them:

bottles after

Tiny bud vases? Toothpick holders? One more thing to collect dust on my desk? Who knows. Who cares? I’m far more fixated on how much fun I’m having seeing the potential in things I used to throw away (or recycle).

Having to toss the contents of our refrigerator was disturbing, to say the least. So much waste! But I decided to be grateful it was only food/money that we lost – not a life, not a limb, not a home – and to look at this like my manna mantra from a few months back.

I tend to use stockpiling and saving to quell my fears about tomorrow, since so much of “tomorrow” remains unknown to me in terms of work and money and unpaid bills and health insurance. Then I’m reminded that even stockpiling does not guarantee I’ll always have enough. I can scoop up manna all day and all night, only to wake up tomorrow and discover the compressor is shot and my manna has spoiled beyond use.

Yes, another lesson in leaving tomorrow until tomorrow.

Today I have a home that is cooler than the rising summer temps. I have clothes that are clean and enough food to feed my family. I know where my children are and what they’re doing. I know my husband loves me and bears all these burdens with me.

Best of all:  not worrying about tomorrow leaves me plenty of energy to find the potential in all of this.