I’ve been going through half a dozen large boxes full of papers and schoolwork (yes, even from kindergarten!). Mostly I can’t believe I’ve kept all of this stuff, hauling it from here and there, hither and yon. The weight of it all is heavy (on multiple levels), and I do wonder why I kept certain things, like notes passed from peers that were incredibly mean. There I was, working on pre-Algebra problems, and notes would slip my way saying ugly and crass things. And, I somehow thought those were worth keeping. Maybe I deserved them or something. Maybe they were mirrors.
But all of it has headed to the garbage and I am relieved. I am not the picture others painted. And I’m learning while going through the messes of past history that I’m not even the picture I thought I was, either. What I see as an adult now was a sweet little girl, writing such tender things of rainbows, friends, flowers, dances, and horses. I see her hunger to be loved, to be cherished. I see her withdrawing in her teen years, cynical that it would ever come. Mentally I give her the warmest embrace, and remind her of God’s grace.
I have two more boxes to go. They are full of journals. I can’t decide whether to read them before shredding, to revisit or remember. Either way, I am sure that once I’m on the other side, I will be stronger.
Here is a little art-ing I did not too long ago. At this stage I feel like the buds, still compact but warming in the Son, loosening. This turned out a little too messy for me, but that’s all right. Growing usually is.