The reason I am probably a "No-Stuff-in-the-Attic" freak, is because when my mom died, I was the only one around to clean out the house that she and dad had lived in for over fifty years.  My brother was in China, (he's a doctor and was the first missionary to get into China when Nixon normalized our relations with China.  He stayed there thirty-seven years.)  And my sister was working full time in Jenks.  So I got elected.

The house was one thing.  The attic was another.  My mom was born in 1914, so she would have been fifteen years old when the stock market crashed in 1929.  And the depression that followed was so bad that everyone who was living through it saved everything.  Everything.

Her attic was filled with big black plastic bags with everything in them that you could possibly imagine.  Some of them had been there so long that when you started to pull them out, they crumbled into black dust.  When my brother came home on furlough, I told him that he had to clean the attic.  He tried, but he couldn't do it either.  Eventually I gave up and sold the house "as is".  Who knows what all was still up there.

But it warped me.  I vowed that I would never, ever, put anything in my attic.  And I haven't.  Well, I take that back, there are extra shingles up there in case there is a roof leak.  That's it.  There's nothing up there that I am taking with me when I move.  And nothing is going into the attic at my new house.  Period.

Matthew 6:19-20 "Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust corrupts, and where thieves break through and steal:  But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and dust don't corrupt and where thieves don't break through and steal."

Moths just ate up my cashmere lined gloves.  I hate those little pests.  I am going to take that scripture to mean that there won't be any bad bugs in heaven.

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