The Earring

I had every intention of going to TOWN on the entire house today. I was going to be a trash-dumping, garment donating machine. Considering my closet and guest room took several hours, I think this may be a project-a-weekend kind of thing.

I am a happy little hoarder-- which is not as freakin' scary as those of the leave animal feces and dirty diapers in a pile on your bed persuasion.

I just can't get rid of a scarf if I ever had a good experience whilst I wore it. And I keep pictures that have faded and smeared over time in the bottom drawer because I was tan and skinny. And I liked that.

In a box of random jewelry odds and ends, I found a lone earring stud. I smiled when I realized what it was from. It was from the day I randomly got a cartilage piercing many years ago. My friend got it done, her parents were mad and she insisted that I do it too so that we were in the same boat. So off to Merle Norman's we went.

Sure enough, when I arrived home, Trey Reely was not pleased. I think the word "hootchie mama" even escaped his lips. He asked what the boys were going to think and lamented that a nose ring was probably next. While my friend with a nose ring sat at the kitchen table.

'I wonder if this will still go in my ear up there,' I wondered. So I tried it. And it slid right in like a day hadn't passed since my "rebellious" youth. I have worn it every minute since. Justin even commented, "What is that? I didn't know you had that."

Most hoarders become hoarders because they don't want to let go of how things used to be. They become entrenched in objects that represent a certain period of their life.

Sometimes I mourn the loss of the Ashton of Christmas past. The girl who went through a car wash in the back of a truck. The girl who would stick a slab of cookie dough onto a cookie sheet, bake it whole, and eat it. The girl who would lock the door, sit on the floor and karaoke all by herself. The girl who made up an extensive Facebook profile for an imaginary boyfriend. The girl who would scream when Flo Rida's "Get Low" would come on. And she could get low. So low.

I have stood at the sink, spatula in hand, and cried over her absence. I have thrown a pair of pants across the room and wished they could hit her in her skinny face. I have sat at my desk and wished so deeply that I wasn't sitting there.

But I got to thinking today. We thought we were so hardcore back then. Like letting an old lady shoot a nail gun through your ear was the peak of maturity.

But guys-- I have friends that have fought and beat cancer. I have friends who nurse screaming babies at 4 a.m. I have friends who work all day and then taxi kids around all night. I have friends who have recovered from relationships that rocked them to their very core. I have friends who battle depression but still find a way to bless others. I have friends that don't let incredible loss kill their spirit.

And I thought earrings made us tough stuff? Oh please.

So stop surrounding yourself with piles of junk and worshipping your former self. Because if you're truly honest with yourself, you'll realize you are more courageous than you ever were back then.

"Nothing is so strong as gentleness, and nothing is so gentle as true strength." Ralph Sockman