Sparseness Realization

What a parsonage Living Room might look like.

Whenever we have had the occasion to visit in other peoples' homes over the years,  it has always been noticeable to us how much more sparse our own living areas are.

I have explained that to myself in a variety of ways, whenever I have pondered that particular phenomenon.

My life has been filled with many moves,  both in my childhood, and in my adulthood.  Moving a lot inevitably makes one 'pare down' and get rid of what is not really important or in good shape.

I have also experienced several big "losses".   One required starting over with nothing, divorced and a single parent.  Another was a flood, which destroyed much of what I owned.   Having the "moves" and the "losses" in my life has, I suppose,  made me less attached to my "things" than other people might be.

Another "explanation" for our sparseness as compared to others,  is that other owners have resided in their homes for thirty or forty years.  Our maximum number is thirteen.

But I had a new realization just recently.  I received an email from a fellow Preacher's Kid from Mississippi. She was looking for one of my mother's recipes, and we exchanged several chatty emails.  I really got a kick out of one of her comments, which went something like this.   "After many years with a good therapist,  I have finally gotten over the fear that the Women's Society is looking in the windows to see if my feet are propped on the furniture."    That is, of course, an exaggeration of what it was like to live in a parsonage in the 1950's and 1960's in the South.

It did jog my memory, however, and I  recalled that many parsonages  (houses owned by the church) had rooms that were already furnished.   That gave me a new insight.  At least to some degree, it would be true to say that I grew up in homes  (church parsonages) where all of the furniture did not belong to us.

That too could have been formative in my own sparse-living-choices.

Maybe I am settling in for the long haul.  I recently bought a large, full size plush couch.  It takes up more space.