can a messy purse be cleaned up for good?

The last few weeks have been painful. And by painful, I mean they've nearly sent me to the looney bin.

This morning, the start of weepy day number two was on its way. A little bit of emotional processing can take a girl out. I was listening to a sermon from the beginning of the year. Something about overcoming the pain of one's past. The words from the car's CD player felt like they were poking me. I wanted to hear them - because part of me is still looking for the answer. A way out. A way to be free.

The other part of me simply doesn't believe it's possible.

After two days of weepiness and protein bars, I was prime for a fix of "my drug of choice." Food.

As I waded through my purse of the moment, looking for quarters in the bottom of "the bag that never ends" - I was struck by the massive amount of garbage in this oversized black abyss I call my purse. It was a mess. And then it struck me.

I'm just like this messy purse. And by messy, I mean "God-awful-horrific mass of everything you can imagine." The mess irrirates me when I need to find something. I don't like the mess. I wish it were more organized. I might even clean it out now and again.

But the mess always ends up back with me. Burgeoning. Bellowing. If this purse could burp, I think it would. Actually, this purse would belch. It's really disgusting.

Yet, I still lug it around with me.

Somewhere back in the far reaches of my life, lies the start of the mess. In the case of the purse, it may have began innocently enough. A gum wrapper tossed in, meant to throw out later. Change that missed the pocket. Powder without a lid, wrapping itself in a film around everything else. Open lipstick containers. Empty perscription bottles. A January 2008 receipt for thai food (no joke).

I just read the confession is good for the soul, so here it is. I rarely take this "traveling can" anywhere with me. I am motified that anyone see the state of this purse. Sometimes, I feel the same way about my car.

My life isn't much different. It began innocently enough. A little neglect. Hurt feelings. A bit of abuse. My owner not taking the time to take care of me - organizing my pockets. Keeping my insides cleaned up. Give me a good dusting now and again. Filling me with things that are good for me instead of the trash they didn't want.

Eventually (with this kind of care), we become like my jacked-up purse. We learn to live life as a messy purse and its strung-out contents. Compensation makes life manageable, albeit ridiculous.
I don't want to live with my messy heart any longer. That's a true story. I also don't want to live with the messy purse- however, it still sits in my car. I threw a few receipts out. But I didn't do the overhaul.

I want to be free. I want to be a woman with a clean purse. A tidied up heart. The pain from my yesterdays need not form my tomorrows.

The kicker? Beyond asking Jesus to help me out, I'm not sure how to walk this.

Is it possible?