When Clutter Takes Root
September 10, 2026
Last December, when I committed to downsizing for our major move, I didn’t ask myself, “What is clutter?” I just looked around and saw things I didn’t want, things I could live without, and things I definitely didn't want to put into the moving van.
It wasn’t until a few weeks later, as I made my way under the first layer of “stuff,” that I realized there’s more to clutter than meets the eye. And as I continued to go deeper into the closet and toward the bottoms of the boxes, I began to see how multi-layered clutter really is. No wonder we have a hard time releasing it.
Clutter reminds me of the kudzu vine.
We currently live in a forested area, and for years now, we’ve heard about kudzu. It’s beautiful, and you might be captivated by its lush green leaves, or its fragrant purple flowers. But kudzu isn’t a native plant, and it spreads relentlessly.
It can grow one foot per day, but what makes kudzu truly dangerous is its ability to block all sunlight and crush native plants beneath it. Its dense leaf structure starves trees and plants, and its weight snaps sturdy branches.
Massive fields of kudzu alter the environment, change the ecosystem, and displace wildlife. It doesn't just cover the landscape—without an intervention, it changes everything around it. And kudzu will keep growing, making a serious problem even bigger.
The other day, I heard the crewmen sawing down trees. They worked for days behind our house clearing the median from what used to be a lush forested area. But they weren’t clearing trees. They were addressing kudzu.
Neighbors were shocked afterward and complained about the newly cleared median. They wanted their forest back. Then someone said it was kudzu, and that changed everything.
The Township had to take drastic measures with kudzu to save the forest we enjoy so much.
Clutter is like kudzu:
Clutter starts innocently. We might even think it’s beautiful. No one starts out wanting a cluttered house, but it accumulates over time.
Clutter spreads. A few things on the counter, a few piles on the desk, and before long it's a problem. One pile becomes two. We say we’ll get around to them, but with each delay, the project becomes bigger.
Clutter changes the atmosphere. I noticed this after I decluttered my kitchen. The room felt lighter. Each morning, as I turned the corner and flipped on the light, my day started differently. I wasn’t bombarded by everything on the counter. My brain welcomed the change. I found myself smiling and taking a deep breath in a room I didn’t realize felt crowded before.
Clutter is heavy. Too much stuff in a space feels heavy mentally and emotionally. It can also literally be too heavy. As we prepped our house to sell, we wanted our closets to look clean and spacious, so we sorted our clothes. We had more to do, but to save time, we moved things to one closet. Within 45 minutes, the clothes rod pulled away from the wall. Our clothes and everything on the shelf fell to the floor. How embarrassing!
Clutter’s difficult to deal with. Clutter doesn’t go away on its own. It takes concerted effort to deal with it. But for people who want to see their spaces change and enjoy the effects, it is possible.
Clutter is universal. Life gets busy, people get sick, and things accumulate over time.
Clutter is also very personal. My husband and I have different ideas about our piles because stories from our past are different. He doesn’t see Mom’s china the same way I do, and I don’t understand what he sees in a fishing lure.
And clutter can be like kudzu: making us feel heavy, stifled–crowded in our own spaces. I didn’t declutter because I wanted to be a minimalist. I wanted my life back. And I wanted to enjoy the move into our new home.
As I worked through my piles and boxes, I realized that clutter doesn’t just invade our closets. It can take over seasons of our life and rob us of the joy and purpose we might find there.
My husband officially retired from his corporate job just ten days ago, and as we stand together on the cusp of our senior chapter, I see a different kind of kudzu waiting to take root. For those of us who spent decades running hard, finding our purpose, and counting our worth by what we could achieve, retirement can come with some identity clutter.
If we aren't careful, the lingering pressure to always be "doing" and “producing” can quietly creep in. If we allow it, it will choke out the bright, spacious opportunity God has for us now.
Carrying the expectations of a previous season into the next will stifle the fresh dreams and quiet sense of shalom God wants to develop in us. We have to clear away the myths and mental noise to make room for who we are becoming even now.
The antidote to kudzu is to clear out the vine. To deal with it at the root level. To let the light back in and allow the air to circulate.
The antidote for clutter is awareness. It’s when you look at that Christmas decoration and refuse to put it away for another year. It’s when you look at the dining room table (or the stuff piled on top of the table), and say, This is not me.
Awareness is the first step. With that alone, you can feel lighter. Waking up and realizing that’s not who you are…that thought lets the light in. And from there, you can take the next step.
Awareness by itself doesn’t clear the clutter. More steps are needed. But each step forward can bring more clarity and wisdom. More freedom. That’s what I want for you. And that’s why I started Clearing the Way.
Clearing the Way This Week:
Can you see how clutter is like kudzu in your space? What part do you notice the most—how it accumulates and spreads, how stifling it feels, or something else?
I'm learning to be more intentional with both my thoughts and my things as we prepare for retirement and a major move. I'm sharing what I learn here on Clearing the Way—and I hope you'll find something helpful as you clear your own way forward. If you'd like to follow along, I'd love to have you join me.