When I was growing up, weekends weren’t for resting. They were for projects. On our nine-acre farm, there was always something to do — mowing the pasture, picking up pine cones, trimming hedges, weeding the garden, mucking out the stalls, or helping work the cattle. My stepdad was the foreman, and the rest of us were the crew. There wasn’t much discussion about whether something needed to be done — if you had daylight, you had a job.
Our rooms had to stay clean, too. If he came home and found a mess, he’d toss everything we owned onto the bed — shoes, clothes, books, whatever he found. Then we’d have to put it all away before we could sleep. Mom hated that part, especially when muddy boots landed on the clean bedspread, but it made its point: if you keep things where they belong, no one has to remind you twice.
Looking back, I can’t say I enjoyed those weekends — but I learned from them. That rhythm of work and order seeps into you. It teaches you to see clutter for what it is: distraction, delay, something that keeps you from getting on with what really matters.
These days, I don’t have stalls to muck or hedges to trim, but I still find clutter creeping in. Not just in my office or my garage, but in my head — the unmade plans, the half-finished ideas, the “someday” projects that quietly pile up. Life may not dump them all on your bed at once, but eventually, they get in the way of rest just the same.
So lately I’ve been trying to clear a little space — in my home, yes, but even more in my mind. Saying no to what doesn’t fit. Letting go of things that once served a purpose but no longer do. Creating room again for what’s real and lasting.
Clutter, I’ve realized, isn’t always a mess you can see. Sometimes it’s what you carry — and it takes just as much work to clean it up.
Where could you reduce a little clutter in your own life — in your space, your schedule, or your soul?
Copyright © 2026 Doug DeBolt.
