MY COLLECTION
I must confess I have a weakness. A weakness for bags (not handbags - I only have two). I can't remember how, sometime in the late '70s, my penchant developed for supermarket bags. Perhaps it resulted in having children aged four, two and one. When I went visiting, bags were needed for toys and changes of clothes. They held wet, smelly, dirty cloth nappies until they could be plunged into a bucket of 'Napisan' at home(there were no disposable nappies back then). Consequently, because of this and their many other daily uses, I always made sure I kept a good supply. This is possibly the reason for my 'bag addiction'.
Over time I took a 'step up' collecting better quality bags when we purchased shoes, clothes, household items etc., from other stores. I saved them for special purposes such as carrying books to the library, giving excess produce from our veggie garden to friends, or taking activities to church to keep all three quiet during the sermon. With the passing of time, the quantity, quality and variety have grown considerably.
Wherever we move, I have my stash. Besides the obligatory bag holder in the kitchen, there are brown paper carrier bags, foil wine bags, used padded mail bags, cute bags from the opticians, brightly striped bags from a chocolaterie and large red shiny Christmas bags. You name them, I have them. Cloth/paper bags from supermarkets and business houses caused an explosion in my collection. I can always find room for more because "I never know when I will need a bag."
Travel bags are also needed, and opening the cupboard door in the third bedroom can be frightening. 'High-class' store bags lurk in a large laundry basket. Next to that is a pile of cabin bags trying to escape for another flight to a foreign country. Soft floppy rucksacks lie deflated on the bottom. Do they remember past camping trips and holidays with friends while longing for another adventure? Pull-along overnighters are waiting to be let loose again. Stout carry-alls that held excess enthusiastic purchases from Duty-Free are wedged in tight. Peacefully hanging on a hook, dreaming of friendly craft groups, are gifts from my departed mother. Two precious simple hand-quilted bags in differing shades of blue. Finally, the only surviving much-used suitcase stands on its edge, up against the wall. After trips overseas when it was thrown into car boots, bruised on conveyor belts and battered in the belly of a plane, it's glad to be retired. The baggage handlers' rough treatment is only a distant recollection.
Now I am also retired, with no desire to make trips overseas, I can relax, enjoy my memories and occasionally contemplate reducing my bag collection. I don't have to worry about luggage weight or pray my cases will be circling on the carousel when I arrive. I prayed many times for safe, uncomplicated travel during stop-overs and long flights to and from Canada to visit family. The Lord was faithful. He was in control. Everything, even my baggage, was secure in His hands.
Until I gave my life to Christ, I was not aware that I had what can be called 'spiritual baggage'. weighing me down. Sin, such as guilt, unforgiveness, hurts, wrong attitudes etc. slowly, by His grace and love, bit by bit, continues to be dealt with. I am not yet perfect but I am forgiven. Unlike my natural baggage, which was waiting for me at the end of a flight, this baggage has been cast as far as the east is from the west and remembered no more*. God is the perfect baggage handler, gently lifting the load of sin from my life while He guides me on the path to His special glorious destination in heaven, where I won't need bags anymore.
*See Psalm 103:12 and Isaiah 43:25 (NIV version)
(Reluctantly based on truth)