Packing Light

Cathi Kennedy ponders what things are worth saving. 

I think it’s safe to say that no matter where you live, all eyes were on California in January and on Georgia and North Carolina last fall. The devastation from the fires and the hurricane was horrifying to watch. I cannot imagine evacuating my home with only a moment’s notice. This situation made me think about what I would take with me and what I’d leave behind.  

What Would I Leave Behind?

We do not live in a big house — it’s quite small. It was our starter house that has been home now for more than 20 years. I still wish for a closet I could open and see all my clothes at once instead of crawling into it like I’m searching for Narnia. And despite being the repository for our now-deceased parents’ miscellany, we’ve done a decent job keeping our house free of clutter.   

But there is still a lot of stuff.   

And my question now is: if it’s not worth grabbing as you run out the door, perhaps for the last time, is it worth having at all?  

My physical space affects my mood. If I have a messy desk at work, I have to neaten it up, or I can’t focus. (Insert psychological diagnosis here.) Same with my car, same with my house. It may be dusty, and mail may be on the table for longer than a day (or a week), but I try very hard to keep clutter to a minimum. 

What Would I Take?

What would I take if we had to evacuate? Photos? No. Most of those are now digitized. My computer? Probably not — it’s old and needs to be replaced, and my files live in the everlasting cloud so nothing would be lost. A Bible? Maybe. We don’t have a family Bible with dates and names, though, so I could easily replace the ones we do have. Beloved books? As much as I would want to, they are bulky and heavy, and I could never choose which to take and which to leave behind. A much less horrible Sophie’s choice would ensue.   

After thinking about this for the duration of my coffee brew time, I am leaning toward the pragmatic if pressed into this decision. I would take medications, phones, passports, birth certificates, three days’ worth of clothes, coats, and a water bottle. That’s where I landed. Maybe a charger cord for our phones as well. My favorite rosary.   

And the cat, of course! 

What Physical Things Are Worth Saving?

What are the physical things worth saving? The measuring cups my mom used to portion out flour and sugar that I still use today? The 40-year-old letters from my best friend passed in the hallway between classes or over my shoulder by the person who sat behind me in social studies? Our wedding photos? My writing journals? The cello I haven’t played in months? 

With online delivery of nearly anything we can think of — medications, food, the newest shiny thing we see on social media — our consumption has to be at an all-time high. (I’m sure there is data out there on this. Google it and let me know.)  

I know that during the 1½ years when I worked from home, I succumbed to online shopping for comfort and distraction. The world was upside down, but I could get a new shirt the next day without shipping costs. Or a camera, or a breadmaker. A little dopamine hit all wrapped up in a brown box with a smile on the front.   

When our bodies wear out, and we die our physical death, all of it will be left behind. The things we hold precious, as well as the things we forget we even have. (I once found a tent in our basement that I had no recollection of buying.)  

I hope this reminder of what’s important helps me think twice the next time the new shiny item comes across my feed. Would I take this with me if we had to evacuate? If it passes that bar, then yes. If not, maybe I don’t really need it.   

Dear God, help us remember that You give us our daily bread and that we need nothing more. Non nisi te, Domine — nothing but You, Lord. 

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Copyright 2025 Cathi Kennedy
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