If you approached high school Jen and told her that she would some day take pleasure in making things net, in tidying up, she would have silently scoffed at you. (High school Jen was too painfully shy to do anything more than shrug and try to extricate herself from a conversation with a stranger.) Yet I have now come to the point where organizing and cleaning things up (not cleaning, that’s different) gives me a peace of mind which I crave in this time when so many things clammer for brain space every day.

A few weeks ago, I watched Netflix’ original series with Marie Kondo, the creator of the Kon-Mari organization method. I first heard of her method when her book came out bak in 2014. Across social media, all sorts of people had their own takes on “sparking joy” through organization from drinking the Kool-aid without question to rejecting it without knowing anything about it. I fell somewhere in between, not compelled to go out and buy the book or spend tons of time folding my clothes a particular way but also seeing the value of keeping only the things that bring value. The furor around the book died down once the luster of the newest thing wore off. The Netflix reality series revived the furor and the debate.

After watching the seven episodes, I felt energized to take care of the items, although a relatively small number, that I had let accumulate. In fact, partway through one of the episodes, I’d had enough of looking at the pile of assorted shorts and pants on the upper shelf of my closet. Each week when I put away my recently cleaned clothes, I would simply toss them up there, leading to frustration in the morning when I got dressed for my run or workout. In the middle of the episode, I threw down my cross stitch, jumped off my couch, and organized those clothes, folding them (not with the Kon-Mari method) and placing them into piles sorted by purpose or type. I took a few minutes to sort and clean up the things I let accumulate. After doing so, my mind felt clearer, less foggy. I felt compelled to do the same sort of things daily in my classroom.

I realized that keeping things relatively tidy lifted a burden from my mind. It, clearly, does not solve all problems. However, when I look out over a tidy, organized space, I feel relief. I feel as if I have liberated space in my brain to devote to other tasks. I also feel welcomed in such a space. I also knew that if I felt that way with a well-organized classroom, many of my students might feel the same way. With a few exceptions, I spend five to ten minutes after each school day picking up the varied detritus, straightening desks and returning books to orderly spaces on shelves.

I also appreciate the idea of ‘sparking joy’ which I have translated to mean adding value to my life. This concept, more than anything else about the Kon-Mari method, becomes the lightening rod. Among many of my Facebook acquaintances, most of them bibliophiles like myself, take issue with an idea that Marie Kondo recommends having no more than 30 books. I do not know where this idea originated, perhaps in the book because nowhere in any of the episodes does she espouse the idea of limiting items. If a person loves clothes, she encouraged them to curate (my word) their collection. She did not try to make them consolidate their clothes into a capsule wardrobe. I doubt she would look at my extensive 300+ book collection and tell me to dump 99%. However, I also see the benefit of carefully curating my book collection, which I have done twice in recent years. I kept only the books in which I saw quality and/or enjoyed reading as opposed to my former obsession with holding onto as many books as possible just because.

I also take issue with another idea that I have seen crop up among another subset of my Facebook acquaintances, the idea that one can be okay with mess because we know that true joy comes from God, not from items. While I also believe that true joy comes from God, not things, rejecting Marie Kondo and her method in that way bears the stink of sanctimonious pretentiousness. With anything in this life that comes to us through human hands, we should not swallow it wholesale, leaving discernment behind to rot. God has created everything in this world. We can find beauty or usefulness in just about anything.

At the end of the day, while I gladly leave behind certain Kon-Mari techniques like smacking books to wake them up or saying thank you to an item rather than God, the Creator of everything, I appreciate and thank God for revealing something He has given to help me in a time when I often feel overwhelmed. God works in mysterious ways often using human hands, even the tiny hands of Marie Kondo.