My mom is 88 years old. Her beloved husband died 35 years ago. It's a long time to be a widow. Before advanced Alzheimer's disease took its toll, Mom was bright, successful in life, a believing Christian, beloved by family and by friends from her church, and a pack rat. My brother lives out-of-state, so addressing Mom's clutter (and other matters) fell to me.

I dislike clutter, yet over time my view of Mom's clutter softened. Many items in Mom's house were worn or obsolete, but Mom didn't see it that way, perhaps partly because she was a child of the Great Depression. Much of the rest was paper in some form, ranging in size from tiny notes-to-self to a 1961 Encyclopedia Britannica. Eventually all of it lost practical value. For Mom those items were reminders of things we all value—family, a meaningful event, a purposeful involvement in life, a success, a humorous or interesting incident. A few items represented her heartfelt dreams.

Life would have seemed stark to Mom if I had removed every bit of clutter, even as the excess of clutter gave rise to problems. I suggested, pleaded, appealed to reason, emotionally manipulated—anything to get stuff to the alley. Sometimes I partly succeeded, only for Mom to replenish purged clutter with new clutter.

In early 2018, Mom's faster-than-expected move to assisted living and prompt home sale required lots of fast work by me, which I accomplished in part by two all-nighters and morale-boosting burritos from a great Mexican hole-in-the-wall in Cicero. I wore out the pavement carrying Mom's stuff to the alley.

Very recently Mom moved to memory care, which required another downsizing. Not counting her bed and several pieces of furniture, I suppose that Mom's belongings now take up less than one percent of the cubic space they did five years ago. Material things are gone. Involvements of the past are gone. Most of Mom's mind is gone, none of these to return. "What do people gain from all their labors at which they toil under the sun?" (Ecclesiastes 1:3, NIV)

Today other people live in Mom's house. Scavengers took away far more than I'd expected, and I trust that at least some recycle bin contents were indeed usefully recycled. "What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun." (Ecclesiastes 1:9, NIV)

Prompted by her own experience, in the early 1990s Mom took classes at Northern Baptist Seminary with a goal of becoming a hospital chaplain. Courses included church history, spiritual formation, and deep dives into several Old and New Testament books. Mom being Mom, her grades were excellent, and she got as far as interning. Today it is as if none of that happened. "Then I applied myself to the understanding of wisdom, and also of madness and folly, but I learned that this, too, is a chasing after the wind." (Ecclesiastes 1:17, NIV)

Believe me, I relate to this verse: "A time to search ... and a time to throw away." (Ecclesiastes 3:6, NIV)

Many of you are acquainted with Alzheimer's, which is both dreadful and unpredictable. "Moreover, no one knows when their hour will come: As fish are caught in a cruel net, or birds are taken in a snare, so people are trapped by evil times that fall unexpectedly upon them." (Ecclesiastes 9:12, NIV)

As a young adult and young Christian, I thought that Ecclesiastes was a downer. Today I see it as no-nonsense, matter of fact. I had overlooked its encouragement: "I know that everything God does will endure forever; nothing can be added to it and nothing taken from it." (Ecclesiastes 3:14, NIV). In my view, Ecclesiastes is not without humor: "Do not pay attention to every word people say, or you may hear your servant cursing you." (Ecclesiastes 7:21, NIV)

Parts of Ecclesiastes puzzle me, but that doesn't throw me. Our pastors are glad to take a swing at the hard parts, and there are commentaries. Should the Lord tarry, one day I'll be gone, and other people will wonder about Ecclesiastes. There is nothing new under the sun.