When we arrived in England, none of my bedroom furniture fit up the stairs. The bedroom is big enough, but the turn in the stairwell is not. Our everybody-can-snuggle-on-Saturday-morning, pillow-top, king-size bed was donated almost immediately to a charity. But the dresser & chest of drawers have lingered in our lounge (aka living room) for more than a year, waiting for when we relocate to a different house.
Today I phoned the same charity that claimed our bed might be too large for the pick-up van (they managed, but the manager pleaded, "Please tell me they don't make beds bigger than this one.") I've been telling myself to do it for months, but today I finally scheduled to have the bedroom suite taken away.
In the past year I've thought about what that furniture means to me. We bought it, ironically, from a family who were leaving the States to spend a year in Norway. Those pieces of furniture symbolized what good things could enter our lives. Beautiful & functional, with clean lines. Form fit function. But although we could still use the function, those pieces no longer fit the form of our lives.
So, on January 8th, those items which meant "good things will come" to my graduate-student-wife self will be taken away. Their sale will bless the lives of the Emmaus Community. And, I like the thought that perhaps they could become a symbol of "someday" prosperity for another young family.