Book Review: Marked by Prayer

I usually fight the temptation to buy interesting books. I'm currently in a purging and downsizing mode. However, needing to rekindle my writing (stalling out again), I bought the 2026 Christian Writers Market Guide. To finagle free shipping, I purchased G. Dwayne McCrary's $5 book, Marked by Prayer: Five Traits of People Who Pray. I thought it might jump start my flagging prayer life in the same way as the marketing guide. The extra effort extended on prayer in past years has dwindled in these first months of 2026. Indeed, I am not currently marked by prayer (nor am I using the writers market guide).

McCrary posits that prayer warriors are people who have experienced helplessness (prodigal son scenario, check). They are grounded in scripture (check, that has not diminished in the slightest). Prayer warriors exhibit personal grief over sin (so easy to desire recognition of sin in others, while missing it in myself). I think my favorite chapter was on "deferred confidence." In mentioning this trait to my BSF group, one friend said she has a plaque in her home that says, "Godfidence!" Oh that this would be true of me. Too often I want the answers and solutions now, or at least on my timetable. Finally, prayerful people seek out the presence of God. This was convicting, too. Do I spend time actively listening for God's voice? Or do I rush to check off the various portions of my morning routine?

I want to be the reason people see God moving in their lives! I want my prayers to transform those I lift to His throne! I ask, with the author, "what keeps me from carrying these marks?" Am I unwilling to provide the time, effort, and transparency required? His reminder is true, "Anything worth doing is difficult and painful in some way."

Book Review: Declutter Your Heart and Your Home

Declutter Your Heart and Your Home: How a Minimalist Life Yields Maximum Joy, by Julia Ubbenga, is a Christian guide to purging unhelpful baggage. Ubbenga writes a minimalism blog called Rich in What Matters, where she encourages readers to seek less stuff to make way for more meaning. If you've read my blog for any time, you know my goal of purging the extra accumulation from years of parenting and, to be honest, hoarding. Now, I don't live with piles of paper and belongings strewn everywhere. I'm not that kind of hoarder, but I can admit I own more things than I'd like to be keeping. My husband has said we need to kick this process into high gear. I'm a deer in the headlights. I hoped this book would jump-start that purging mojo again. One reviewer on Amazon called this book a "game-changer." Alas, I feel more daunted than ever.

Declutter Your Heart and Your Home is chock full of quotes from many minimalists (minimalism IS in vogue). It focuses on spiritual goals for minimalism. It promises the path to peace is purging. I already feel bad about my stuff. Now, I feel guilty, as well. As if I'm being told that my focus is clearly on the wrong things and I need to shift my agenda away from stuff and toward the Lord. I think my heart is already more focused on the Lord, in spite of the stuff I battle. I'd rather praise my way to peace. Purging leaves me drained and discouraged. I'm sure this book is helpful to many Christians who want to break free from bondage to things. I guess, I just don't see myself battling bondage in that camp.

For example, one statistic declared the average household monthly spending on clothing is $160. This number blew me away. Seriously? People are spending that much or more on clothes? I'm a no-frills kind of gal. I'm not concerned with comparing my wardrobe to anyone else's. My main goal is always comfort, not style. Many of my clothes have been in my wardrobe for decades.

Then came another shock to my system. Ubbenga offers this suggestion for what your wardrobe could look like. I did not list jewelry and such, just not my thing. She recommends 4 pairs of shoes, 2 bags, 2 coats/jackets, 2 dresses or skirts, 3 pairs of pants, and 10 tops. I cannot even fathom that. She must do laundry every day. She suggests paring down your kids' clothes to what would fit in a suitcase. This is minimalism on steroids. While I would so like to live with less stuff, I don't think I'm ready to pare down to 3 pairs of pants!

Toward the end of the book, the story of her journey to minimalism winds down. Her life is so much better. Her focus on the Lord is uninterrupted. She said she downsized 75% of their possessions. What is really scary is that when we move from this house (where we have lived for almost 2 decades), we probably DO need to purge 75% of our possessions. How? I can read about it all I want, but that doesn't help make it happen. Perhaps I need to tell myself I only have years to live and that might motivate me to "relinquish the past," as she recommends. Can I tell those sentimental books, letters, and photos they are "no longer welcome?" After reading this book, I'm thinking I'm a hopeless case. 

August 2025 Purging Momentum Restored

In my last purging update, I bemoaned my loss of minimizing mojo. The complications of our summer made concentration and purpose falter. May was a complete bust with not a second spent on purging. June only netted 2 hours of purging time (finally getting rid of old medals and trophies I won for music competitions back in my teen years). At the beginning of July, I knew something had to change. I decided to attack the problem earlier in the day. As soon as I completed my morning devotional time, I set out to spend at least 20 minutes in purging. Often, I ended up working longer. I guess that principle is correct, "Eat the frog." Here's a brief video, if you've never encountered that helpful productivity phrase.

I'm not sure what triggered my hoarding tendencies. In my family-of-origin, we moved frequently. My parents were Salvation Army officers and we moved every 2-3 years. Our orders arrived one month before the move. Thus, we usually moved unopened boxes from the previous move. Unable to find what we knew we had in the boxes, we often made duplicate purchases. The boxes grew and grew. For a family of seven, such multiplication was downright dangerous.

I also suffer from a scarcity mentality. It is second nature to worry if we will have enough. If something goes on sale, I feel compelled to buy it so we will have it when we might not have enough to cover that purchase later. My frugality plays in here, as well. If I think I'm saving, I'm more likely to buy and accumulate more than we need. I don't want to throw things out because I might need them at some point in the future.

I am only now beginning to recognize some of this as a sickness. In July, I focused efforts on whittling down my accumulation of craft supplies. Boy, did I like crafts! Now you should ask, "so, you're crafty?" Well, no, not really. In truth, the crafts I have completed are often pathetic. Early in our marriage, I used to give homemade gifts. It got to the point where I apologized, realizing it wasn't truly a gift if the thing looked like a two-year-old threw it together from pipe-cleaners and tissue paper. 

The only thing I really enjoyed and excelled at was cross-stitching. Even with that, I can only think of two cross-stitch gifts I gave that were appreciated. In college, I made a very basic (i.e, ugly... without color or appeal), framed cross-stitching of a verse from an Amy Grant song about "my precious family" being "more than an heirloom to me." My mother loved it and proudly displayed it. Then, I bought a kit for making a cross-stitch clock and gave that to my mother-in-law. Although I don't think she loved it, she did display it for many years in her kitchen.

I spent many hours purging my crafts supplies. Some of these were inherited supplies. My grandmother's sister made and sold crafts. Thus, upon her death, I was bequeathed loads of frames and mats. I don't think I ever used one. Here are four separate lots of supplies I had hoped to sell to some other crazed craft hoarder (Few must struggle as I do; I'm having no success at selling these supplies):

It was somewhat nostalgic to come across the crafts I made with my special education basic life skills classes. We made a variety of plastic canvas Christmas ornaments and fridge magnets. (Sadly, I sent the sparkly snowflake ornament and the balloon photo frame samples to Goodwill before I snapped the photo of our projects). We also used plastic canvas to sew a set of mug rugs. Another easy craft was a necklace made from bandanas, cotton balls, and beads. School colors were a big hit. I doubted anyone would bite at old-fashioned plastic canvas patterns, materials, or yarn. Those went to Goodwill.

Several of the crafts supplies (pipe-cleaners, bells, googly eyes, felt, fabric scraps, etc.) went to my local grade school. I think the teachers appreciated the donation (craft supplies, recess toys, games, puppets, and over 100 books, including a set of the Laura Ingalls Wilder series since we had two, the Origami Yoda series, and a variety of classic and vintage books):

In July, I purged on 84% of the days for a total of 12 hours. Besides the donation to the school, I worked on some bookshelves downstairs (oh, we have oodles of bookshelves and tons of books - this is a very hard category for me to purge from). I managed to cull almost 200 books. Parting with books is often like cutting off a digit. I still have half the downstairs bookshelf area to get to. 

I also spent a fair amount of time going through piles of magazines. When I taught high school, I often gave creative assignments asking the students to use magazine pictures to illustrate lines from literature (for example, one group found an image of a woman horrified to see her dog trailing in muddy steps on the carpet and paired that with Shakespeare's line, "Out d@mn spot!"). I probably should have merely thrown the stacks away, but instead skimmed through for ideas or recipes I might want to keep. 

In August, we also attempted to sort things in Sean's room. I think we sent 2 or 3 piles of clothes to Goodwill. Once football was over, Sean dropped a lot of weight and many items no longer fit. We attempted to donate some football gear (some even new with tags), but the high school athletic office never got back to me. Thus, in August, I purged on 20 days (66% of the days) for a total of 15 hours. While I do feel I'm making better progress now, I'm amazed at how much I still need to do. Thankfully, we do not plan to move until later in 2026, so hopefully my purging progress will persist. In the meantime, let me know if you're a crafter in search of hoarded supplies. Ha!

Book Review: How to Keep House While Drowning

I've struggled with chronic depression for 3 decades. This book resonated because I have tried to keep house while drowning. The author, K. C. Davis, is a trained therapist and faces her own battles with depression. Every insight tenderly addresses details of cleaning and organizing that may present special challenges to those who struggle with mental illness. The main message I gleaned from How to Keep House While Drowning is that it is okay if you're not living in a tidy, immaculate home. Give yourself grace and focus on making your areas function for you.

Davis' first chapter addresses the core problem. "Care tasks are morally neutral." So often we think the state of our home reflects our goodness as a person. Davis is quick to point out, "when you view care tasks as moral, the motivation for completing them is often shame.... You are not a failure because you can't keep up with laundry." And, as she points out, "No one ever shamed themselves into better mental health."

How freeing to realize my tendency to feel paralyzed, unmotivated, and overwhelmed stems from personal shame about the state of my home. Someone else may easily follow the mantra of "put things away as you go," but it all depends on one's individual capacity and what challenges or barriers you face. Her suggestion to give one's self grace opens the door to freedom. She encourages the reader to "set a timer for the smallest increment you can stomach," because momentum builds momentum.

These challenges of individual capacity are so clear in my marital relationship. My mother-in-law, bless her, always considered me a tremendously lazy slob. Productivity was her god. She was type A and cleaning was her jam. My husband can be just like that. His organizational skills far outpace my wildest dreams. I get stymied because I don't know where to keep things, or even if I should keep things (we know I keep way too many things). Then, I launch into overwhelm and the whole process of organizing becomes so loaded emotionally. Davis suggests focusing on functionality and remembering that cleaning and organizing is a gift you give your future self. If I take the time to straighten the kitchen before bed, I will wake to a much brighter morning experience (unless, of course, a son sabotages said straightened kitchen before I get up). I want my belongings to serve me, not the opposite.

After reading the book, I looked up the author (who began by posting Tik Toks of her struggles with the house, only to have someone, from the anonymity of the internet, say she was merely lazy). I watched her 12-minute TED talk. Her story is a worthwhile exploration on why some people struggle more with care tasks than others. I'm also impressed that she is a recovered drug addict (sent to rehab for a year and a half when she was only 16). So if you're drowning, recognize that the state of your house does not reflect your worth as a person. Celebrate each victory. Build momentum and only tackle what you can. Let go of the rest. 

May 2025 Purging Stasis

My grand hopes for spending a year in devoted activity of purging derailed. March hours declined. April hours diminished. May hours tanked entirely. I may never get the purging mojo back.

In March, I purged 12 out of the 31 days (40%) for a total of 10 hours (average of 1/3 hour a day). I worked through more saved correspondence, this time from a missionary couple whose work we followed for years, from old friends, and from my sister. I unearthed a shell-covered trinket jar, a gift from a friend during my missionary stint in the Philippines:

When I sent this photo to Leah, she was overcome that I still had the gift in my possession. I know it is one of the few I kept. I ended up getting rid, years ago, of a wicker purse, a coin purse, and a handmade plaque made out small matchstick-style wood.

I also stumbled upon Bryce's baby book (probably unopened since he was a toddler). Then, I found these two I had for Trevor and Sean... absolutely empty, apart from the wrist bracelet from my youngest son's birth.

What a treasure trove I found in a huge pile of letters from my friends in England, the Mitchells! I took photos and sent a few to Sarah Mitchell, who was equally thrilled. We reflected together on some of the details mentioned and relished the joy our sustained friendship brings.

In April, I purged 10 out of the 30 days (33%) for a total of 8.5 hours (averaging not quite 20 minutes a day). I tackled the drawers of my downstairs desk. Then, for variety, I began purging clothes from my closet. I got rid of half my jeans. 

I purged items from my bedside table and moved on to old GED teaching files. Although I purged 24 games and puzzles, I still have not decided whether I will offer them to the local elementary school or try to get a small bit of money by taking them to Half Price Books.

In working on the puppets box, I found I could not let go of the beloved puppets John used to animate for Bryce when he was little. So, I kept Ronald and Dopey, Elmo and Piglet, a hamster and an iguana. I will offer the rest (14  characters and animals) to the schools or, perhaps, a church.

On the first day of May, our lives upended in a drastic way and I have not been able to bring myself to work on purging. I spend much time in prayer, much time disassociating, much time worrying, and not enough time doing the things I really should. Hopefully, I will not get to the end of this purging year and find this graphic to be true:

At least I can say that during the past few months, I have cut down on spending for things. I'm trying to only purchase necessities. In light of that, I must coupon-flex, in conclusion. I had a birthday coupon and several others to apply to this $10.49 shampoo at CVS, which brought the price down to a little over a buck. Can you see my fist pump?

Book Review: Decluttering at the Speed of Life

2025 was going to be the year of the big purge. I set a goal: daily tackle small amounts of clutter. "Daily" proved too difficult. Still, I did well in January and February. Then came March. My momentum sputtered. Too many days, I noted in my log as "no purging." Ugh! What I needed was another jump-start. What I needed was Dana K. White's book, Decluttering at the Speed of Life.

Dana articulated the very thing that keeps me from working on de-cluttering or organizing. It is all too overwhelming. The task makes me feel like I'm about to climb a mountain. So many profiles painted in this book are relatable. I am a "wanna-be-repurposer." I keep countless jars and plastic containers because they're too cute to throw away or could be useful in the future. My bedroom has a chair that magnetically attracts piles of clothes. Indeed, I could relate to the "vicious cycle of excess." My closets are full of too many clothes. My craft supplies abound, yet I seldom do crafts of any kind. I am always thinking about tomorrow, but it puts a great stress on today because of the overabundance of stuff I maintain. Much of it is unnecessary.

Here are some of Dana's tips: 

• The only way to deal with the overwhelm is to start.
• Start with what is most visible. This way, you see results right away and you build momentum.
• Purge the straightforward stuff first (not the sentimental piles) as this builds momentum, too.
• Only fill the space you have (or the "container"), so start with favorites, and donate whatever doesn't fit the space.
• Physically touch things to determine if they are necessary.
• Look! Don't assume you know what's in that box.

I will have to remember her advice when we move. She suggested searching "moving supply calculator," to tell how much stuff your new home can hold. "Use the recommended number and size of boxes for the space you're moving into as your reality check." It is easier to pare down when you acknowledge you can only bring a few boxes with you into your smaller space (since we will downsize in the coming years). Maybe after reading this book, I can regain my purging momentum.

February 2025 Purging Progress

In order to really stick to any resolution, it helps to be intentional and accountable for progress. When I undertook my 2023 Facebook Prayer Project, I held to particular structure and documentation. This was a tremendous help in keeping me going. This year, my documentation is meant to keep me plugging away at my two-part goals of fasting and purging. Thus, I try to keep a daily tab on these efforts. Plus, purging is hard for me. When I find something my heart longs to keep, I can make note of it and move on with more ease.

I struggled with the record-keeping, however. At first, I was writing down what was eliminated. This was simple when I was dealing with Christmas items, shoes, books, magazines, and even writing utensils. Those were easily calculated. However, then I began sorting through old teaching files and correspondence. Tossing piles of papers is a bit harder to quantify. In looking back over my daily notes, I purged 537 items. Since some of these were merely pencils or pens, I kept track of bags filled for Goodwill (5). Speaking of pencils, how is this even possible???

I decided to offer the better school supplies (certainly not this pencil nub), teaching materials, and games to my local elementary school (once I've cleared the whole section of the basement that I am tackling). Thus, I have two bags heading there (if they respond with interest). By January 22nd, I began tracking how much time I spent in purging activities. Of those 37 days, I worked 30 hours (approximately 3/4 hour a day). Mainly, I am keeping track of things in order to keep up the momentum and to be able to prove to my husband that I CAN, indeed, tackle my clutter.

What amazes me is how much fun I'm having. I have always dreaded tackling my clutter. But, I'm knee-deep in things of the past and loving every minute of it. There is still a tendency to keep more than I should (how do I get rid of all the correspondence from my beloved Mitchell family in England?), but I can take photos of what I don't keep. Or I can write of them here.

Some funnies I found but wanted to toss:

hipatitus = being perpetually cool

intaxication = the feeling of elation one gets when receiving a tax refund, lasting until you realize the money was yours to begin with

bozone = the layer around some people which inhibits wisdom from penetrating

- Energizer Bunny arrested - charged with battery

- A pessimist's blood type is always B-negative

- Shotgun wedding - a case of wife or death

- I used to work in a blanket factory, but it folded

- Marriage is the mourning after the knot before

- A hangover is the wrath of grapes

- Banning the bra was a big flop

- Sea captains don't like crew cuts

When I discovered my sons' 4th grade journals, I actually sent a thank you note to their teacher (still teaching at their elementary school). It was so funny to read their entries. In one, Sean was bemoaning the fact that his older brother would not be returning home for the summer because he was going to live in an apartment near an internship. He wrote, "They grow up so fast." Ha!

Next, I tackled the files from my minimal years of teaching. My experiences with teaching were not entirely pleasant. In my first year, I was the sole English teacher for a small rural Illinois high school. I had 6 preps: Fresh. Eng., Soph. Eng., Jr. Eng., Sr. Eng., Creative Writing, and Drama. Not only was I stretched to the breaking point, but I had such high expectations and ideals. I felt it was all on me to prepare them for future college expectations. Perhaps I confused the two. In any case, while purging, I found a letter from a mother requesting extra work to help her daughter save an abysmal grade. I shuddered as I read my response, touting the importance of fairness and accountability. I was mortified! I actually sought this mother's old email (she had worked at the local university) and sent her a much-belated apology letter (it is out in the ether, even if she never receives it). Now that I have longed for a second chance for a child, I can sympathize. Back then, not so much!

Thankfully, I also found files from my favorite class, summer school speech. What a blast I had with those students. Not only had I softened, but I gave so many hands-on, interactive activities. When I taught non-verbal communication, I brought in a television and showed 5 minutes of "Bernice Bobs Her Hair," with the sound off. Then, I turned the tv around and showed 5 minutes with just the sound, and finally 5 minutes with both visual and audio clues. Each time, I asked the students to make predictions about what was going on. Then, for sheer fun, we watched the whole movie. To teach personal space, I moved all the desks into one clump in the center of the room and required students to sit in their chairs there for 5 minutes. They were so relieved to move back to the original desk arrangement.

I found 2 copies of my college commencement program (seeing all those old names sent me searching on FB). When I found Bryce's baby book, I discovered the newspaper announcement which had his (later) best friend's announcement just above his. I sobbed when I found an unused, now defunct, $20 Borders gift card that had been a parting gift when we moved to Indiana. I actually tossed all but the few written on pages from my own baby book. In happening upon this photo from when I was five, I'm wondering why I didn't get the memo to wear white like everyone else?

Sorting through my college folders brought back great memories. In my Theology of Culture class, I had to keep a current events journal. Isn't this entry a kicker?

I had always remembered my Bible Geography class for the creative way the instructor tested our knowledge. Thus, I was thrilled to find and capture this quiz from his class:

Finally, it was such fun to re-read old correspondence. I found a letter my dad had sent when I was in the Philippines on a mission trip. In it, he explained the events of one evening when he woke at 4 a.m. realizing he had forgotten to have his evening devotions. He was praying and heard a tapping sound outside, coming from the Pizza Hut next door. He watched a burglar enter and called the police. Eleven squad cars surrounded the place and they came begging a hanger, so they could break into the back door. They returned again to ask if he was positive that the burglar was still in there. He assured them he had been watching faithfully. A few days later, he learned that the man had shut himself into the large cooler and passed out. Lucky for the burglar (an ex-employee who had already broken in once before), they found him and saved his life. My dad ended that paragraph with, "No, we haven't gotten a free pizza yet." Ha!

Here's a flyer I found for one of our Salvation Army outreach events, showcasing a photo of my baby brother, Tim, playing an Alto horn:

I had to text Tim a photo of a letter he sent to me with highlights from his vacation when he was around ten. He detailed every state they went through, even including multiple ones "where nothing happened," and every item he purchased. He finally explained that he had saved up $51 from his paper route job and spent all but 13 cents of it. He ended by saying, "Well, I guess I should get to bed. I started at 3 and now it's 10:27." He texted back, "What's going on? This letter took me 7.5 hours to write!! I'm so glad I gave such a detailed account. Even of the states where nothing happened! Hilarious!"

See what I mean? Great fun poring over items hoarded from the past. This is the reason I'm a pack-rat. I cannot bear to part with the detritus that makes me smile. Still, after 2 months purging work, I'm making some progress!

Book Review: The Year of Less

I enjoy learning what others are reading via Goodreads updates. A friend highlighted this book as one she wanted to read. It sounded intriguing. Cait Flanders is the author of The Year of Less: How I Stopped Shopping, Gave Away My Belongings, and Discovered Life is Worth More Than Anything You Can Buy in a Store. As if to emphasize less, the title is all in lower-case lettering. Of course, the length of the subtitle is more. Crazy!

This book (part self-help, part memoir) is a fascinating tale of paring away inessentials and analyzing what drives us to buy when we don't need and cling when we should release. Since my goal is to pare down my belongings, I thought this book might provide insight and motivation. Flanders explains how emotionally fraught our purchase patterns are. Some people (myself included) overeat when they avoid feelings, some people binge watch movies (myself included), and some use retail therapy. For years, Flanders used alcohol, food, and pointless spending to assuage feelings of insufficiency. After success in getting sober and losing weight, she addressed the money/belongings issue.

As her bio on the back cover proclaims, she is "a former binge consumer turned mindful consumer of everything. Through personal stories, she writes about what happens when money, minimalism, and mindfulness cross paths." Her writing is fluid and easy to follow. She provides expert insight into her addictions. (Her biological father should be strung up for his role.) Her self-examination and her willingness to sit in the pain causing those behaviors endear her to the reader. 

Although I am not a binge shopper, I am often lured into purchases under the guise of saving money. My frugality isn't economical when I buy what I do not need. Hopefully, by reading this and other minimalism books, I will get a handle on the excess in my life and strip down to a more meager existence. In some ways, I have no choice. If we move after our youngest graduates, we will not be seeking a home along the scale of what we now maintain. 

Indeed, we would not have selected this house if we weren't meeting family needs by taking residence. Previously, we lived in a two-bedroom bungalow in DeKalb, Illinois. Our oldest son's room wasn't big enough when our middle son came along, so Trevor's crib was in the dining room. Now, after years of filling the extra space we have, I am tasked with going back to a bare-bones existence. We shall see if reading books helps me face this challenge. It is easier to read about minimalism than to implement it. Thankfully, I will have my husband to hold me accountable.😇