Tokens of Love

So I am slowly cleaning out my clothes, shoes, bathrooms, kitchen appliances, storage, and basically anything that I own to declutter to make my future just a little bit easier.

I'm really proud of myself, because I threw out two HUGE bags of clothes. That's a big accomplishment for me. I have laundry going, and my closet is organized and full of things that I actually wear. Oddly enough, that's a really good feeling.

But while I was cleaning, I came across a sweatshirt I got in high school when my basketball team went to the State Tournament. I was the team captain, and though it doesn't mean much on the long scheme of things, I was pleased with myself and my team for being Regional Champions and have a great season. The sweatshirt isn't particularly cute, nor does it even fit me: I really liked BIG sweatshirts in high school. I just wanted to be snuggly. It's navy with a white lining inside the hood, and orange writing on the front that says "Utah State Basketball Championship." I couldn't even tell you the last time that I wore it.

As I was cleaning out, that sweatshirt took the most of the beatings. I threw it in the DI pile, and then moved it to the trash pile, only to hang it back up ten minutes later with just enough time to throw it back into the DI pile. As I was bagging up my clothes, I kept overlooking that one, leaving it to the very last. I sat on my floor for about ten minutes, holding this sweatshirt, just looking at it.

I hung it back up.

Why couldn't I get rid of it? It just takes up space, and I probably won't wear it for a VERY long time. But that sweatshirt resembles a lot more to me than basketball. Here's why:

Growing up, we were very poor. I was not deprived of opportunities--in fact, I was very blessed with the chance to participate in MANY activities and develop a lot of different talents. But nonetheless, we were poor. As a small child, I remember being VERY aware of what I ordered when I went out to eat, because I didn't want to spend too much money. I'm not sure where that came from, but I always ordered smaller plates, or soups, or....something less expensive. (Not always, but often.) These sweatshirts cost $35.00 at the tournament, a complete rip off for its actual price, but something they could get away with. The rest of my team was going to get one, no doubt. I wanted that sweatshirt sooo badly. The white lining inside the hood would look sooooo cute, I was just sure of it! I remember the look that came over my mom's face when we were at the table. She knew exactly what I wanted, and it was a look I was all too familiar with. But you know what? She bought me that sweatshirt. Did I have to have it? No. Would I have died without it? Maybe for 1/2 a day. Could we afford it? Probably not. But she bought it for me. And I can't throw it out.

That sweatshirt is a token of love to me. It resembles years of my parent's sacrifice of time, money, and things that THEY wanted, but gave up so that I could have something. And I don't have the heart to throw that out, because that means MUCH more to me than the sweatshirt itself. So there it is, hanging in my closet, and I am very happy about it.