We have sold our townhouse and are in the process of moving. My wife and I have had many
arguments discussions on what should and shouldn’t go into a box. Essentially, my wife’s view is EVERYTHING needs to go into a box. My view is that if it does not fit easily, it’s not being boxed. Naturally, common sense prevails and we do it my wife’s way.
Pretty much everything fits into a box. Stuff that does not fit into a box is, well, furniture.
When you move, you can pack up a whole house of stuff and essentially, fit it into your garage, awaiting for moving day. All your worldly possessions packed up neatly, with clear labels, encased in too much bubble wrap, secured with miles of packing tape.
There’s stuff in packing, and in life, that doesn’t fit into a box. Memories. Laughs. Tears. Fun times. Hard times. Prosperity and poverty. Faith and disbelief. All these things that came across your path as you lived in the house.
Our house has had times of being full to the brim – during holidays when family interstate have stayed and we’ve had 10 people in our three bedroom townhouse! The boisterous nose of five children over-excited to see each other every morning is, well, only a parent knows that feeling! The emptiness and silence that encroached our house when we didn’t bring our first some home from hospital. Times when we’ve felt the tangible presence of the Lord in our house, protecting us, providing miracle after miracle in tough times. Times when faith has been a slug, when only commitments has gotten us through.
As I’ve said recently, my Grandmother passed away recently. After the funeral, I visited her place for one last time. She had lived in a very unassuming green fibro three bedroom house. She lived there with my Grandfather, my two uncles and my father. She was the last to live there. Her house was full of the normal things – books, photographs, furniture. Things that can be put into a box, bought and sold, traded, replaced. What can never be replaced is the memories that were created in that ‘humble home’. The delicious dinners. The conversations. The laughs, the prayers, the tears, the joy, the family. The things you just can’t put into a box and carry away.
Life deals up it’s share of things that can’t be put into a box. Sometimes you wish you could bottle a feeling or memory for later – the sound of your child’s laugh. The warm embrace of your wife. The tender words your husband speaks over your family. There are some things you wish you could dump in a box and drown in a river. Hurtful words. Poverty. Cruelty. Illness.
I know this probably has picked a recent scab for many of you. Torn away skin you thought had healed. I’m interested though – how do you keep those things alive that can’t be boxed? How do you remember your story? How do you heal through those hard times? Discard those things that seem to drag you down?
Many things in life can be put in boxes. It’s the things that we can’t put in boxes are the things we both treasure or fear the most. How do you ‘package’ those things in your life?
Image lifted from: http://www.unclebobs.com/getstorganized/index.php/boxes-for-storage-and-organizing/
Second image care of Thomas Vidins