Storage Boxes

The other day my friend told me she was methodically cleaning out every closet in her house. I felt a little jealous. I didn’t feel motivated to do that in my house, but I knew the good feeling of cleaning out the clutter.

I had a garage sale every November when my kids were growing up. Here in Florida that’s the best time of year for a sale. Garage sale lovers go from house to house using predetermined routes every Saturday. I would begin preparing a month in advance, removing items from closets, cleaning, folding, mending, fixing, and marking prices. I would always accumulate bags of things to throw away too.

Emptying the closets yielded amazing benefits. First, I could finally find things in the closets after a good de-junk. It was also easier to keep the house picked up because everything had its own spot in a closet somewhere. I enjoyed giving huge price breaks to the needy who showed up on garage sale Saturday. After each annual sale I had enough cash to buy nicer gifts for the kids at Christmas. The leftovers, usually a van load of things, would be donated to a church thrift store that benefits the migrant workers in our county. The whole thing was a feel good event for our family bringing awareness of the needs of others and a satisfaction that we could help in our small way. It even forced us to deep clean the garage annually.

Today is Saturday. Usually I get up and plow into my work, but today I didn’t receive my directions from the Lord until well after I woke up. “This is strange,” I thought. I’m the kind of person who fills my day with busyness even when I should be resting and listening. But today I felt no motivation at all. I felt a kind of deep sadness in my lack of enthusiasm for the gift of another day of life. I stayed in bed for a long time hoping to feel a surge of inspiration. Finally I realized the Lord wanted me to consider cleaning out my heart, much like having an annual garage sale.

“Hmmm, what could this mean?” I wondered. Then I thought of my best friend whose closets are all neatly organized through the use of storage boxes. Ahh, then I understood. I have internal boxes too and their disarray was hindering me from getting out of bed and functioning efficiently.

I have some treasures in my heart that are worthy of keeping in the best quality boxes. But they become unappreciated in the shadows of other unattractive boxes. The box holding unforgiven events has a sharply pointed lid. It prevents other wonderful boxes from being stacked on top of it. In this way it crowds other things out. This week my trusted doctor treated me arrogantly and acted as though my infirmities are entirely my fault. Perhaps he’s right, but it was painful to be blamed for things that already hurt. I carried frustration, discouragement and resentment about the visit until I realized unforgiveness caused my misery. I had heaped more dirt and dust in that awkward box in my heart. In this way the box had grown so large and heavy that it couldn’t be moved in order to gain access to the adjacent beauties deep inside.

There, in the shadow of unforgiveness, was a box that has shrunk over the years. After I reduced the size of unforgiveness I could see faint rays of light peeking out at me, like beams from flashlights with fading batteries. The intensity of the glow had dimmed because I had allowed dust to build up on this box, but light was still shining from within. It’s a round cut glass box with a pretty lid. When clean, its many facets create an exquisite light as their prisms illuminate their surroundings with all colors of the rainbow. The light grows brighter as I express God’s love in tangible ways. Had my routine with my husband grown dull? When was the last time I did something really special to show him he is a gift I treasure? Have I reached out to someone in need recently? What about offering hospitality with a true joyful attitude of giving? No wonder the light was fading in that pretty little glass box. I have been neglecting it, too busy on the hamster wheel of life.

I’ve decided to invest in a new internal box. It’ll be constructed of leather and lined with lamb’s wool. I’ll keep forgiveness there and I’ll store it in a place of honor where its sweet fragrance will permeate all the other storage boxes of my heart. It will bring strength and hope even in the darkest times. This box speaks of overcoming this world’s challenges with supernatural power, a gift from God — a reminder that I have been forgiven and I choose to forgive others.

Not all of my household junk has slipped away in garage sales. I have retained items that stir up happy memories stored in my heart. In fact, I’ve collected several special boxes over the years. I have a round antique wooden box containing five thin-walled cylindrical wooden boxes. My grandmother stored spices in them. Although they are empty now, the fragrances of old spices remain, just as the fragrance of her memory enhances my life today.

A shelf on my wall houses some of my favorite memory-evoking treasures. One is a small cardboard gift box ornately decorated in a heart motif. It once contained a plastic injection car designed and made by my daughter in her senior year of college. The gift represents Hannah’s years of dedicated work and her gratitude for her education. Seeing it soothes my heart; I know God continues to give her strength even in today’s challenges.

A small round pewter box on the shelf bears the inscription, “Mom’s hugs are the best hugs.” Opening the box reveals a tiny raised heart inside. I like to run my finger tip over it as I remember hugs from Sarah. That little thumb sucker used to come to me with her blanket and say, “Mom, I have a cuddle for you.” That empty box is paradoxically full.

One of my little boxes is oval, cut from stone and inlaid with mother-of-pearl. I bought it in Bethlehem to remember that one so wonderful came to fill the emptiness in this world.

Another little delight is a box my mom gave me when I was a little girl. It’s round and carved of wood. On its lid four small angels join hands in a circle. They stand on a green field of painted flowers. Their faithful little dance of joy continues every day without fail. It reminds me of people who are worth holding on to in this journey of life.

Just as valued is a hand made box presented to me and my husband at Christmas by our son-in-law. He recognized our family’s eccentric delight in decorating packages with ribbon. In his acceptance of our tradition, Michael made a box and lid entirely out of woven ribbon. Inside was enough cash to buy something he knew we had wanted for a long time. The box represents his loving thoughtfulness and our unity with the newest member of our family. Although the cash was spent a long time ago, this box is also far from empty.

A friend once told me, “You can’t hoard a blessing.”Living close to the coast, we try to be hurricane ready with plenty of canned food in storage. I used to store canned food in a small cabinet above my refrigerator. When I acquired a more accessible cabinet in the garage for that purpose I began storing canned goods there instead. However, I forgot to remove one large can of peaches from above the fridge. Years passed until one day I was standing on a chair removing the dust on top of the refrigerator with Lysol. I opened the cabinet door and found an amazing surprise. The can of peaches had rotted and burst open. The sugar syrup had become a black rock-hard substance up there.

The rusty can is now sealed in a pool of permanent glue stuck to the bottom of the cupboard. After my husband’s first fruitless attempt to remove the foreign object, we accepted its permanence and began to laugh. It’ll be there until we remodel the kitchen and we’ll laugh at it then too. We never smelled anything strange; I guess it all happened very slowly. But there it sits as a reminder that good things must be used before they turn bad. Those peaches would have been delicious had I shared their sweetness instead of letting them sit unused until they spoiled from the inside. Are there rotten attitudes slowly solidifying inside me? I wonder what good things are stowed in the out-of-reach cupboards of my heart.

Continuing with my internal clean out, I found several boxes of guilt and shame. The ugly box of shame smells hideous. Inside are layers upon layers of decaying matter. Jesus suffered to separate me from this shame, but for some reason I have held onto bits of them. I am ashamed I have not stepped away from habitual sin in my life. I have been lazy about rising to his calling in my life. Jesus has forgiven many sins, but I have not forgiven myself for all of them. Instead I keep the memories in my box of shame.

Right next to my weighty box of shame is my box of guilt. There are all the weights Jesus offered to carry, but I chose to carry them myself. The guilt of willful disobedience. The endless list of NOTs: not praying enough, not giving enough, not studying enough, not having enough faith, not loving enough. It’s a box of paralysis. It keeps me from the fullness of joy, from receiving complete forgiveness, from slipping my hand into my heavenly Father’s hand to walk in the fields of flowers with him, and from inheriting the kingdom of God right here and now.

These are the layers of decomposing life that emit a cloud of filth hiding my most beautiful internal box. If I could get past shame and guilt, this unimaginably beautiful treasure box lies beyond. It is inlaid with gold, covered with jewels and lined with the finest deep red velvet. It overflows with joy, peace, gratitude and confidence. Confidence that goodness will prevail, sorrow will turn to gladness and trials will yield strength. Jesus refills this box in my heart whenever I spend time with him. Oh, satisfy my longings, Lord.

I feel inspired to continue this process of sorting through the internal baggage I accumulate. It’s a healthy prayer exercise and it yields fruitful results. I’m going through the layers of shame and guilt and dusting off the boxes of beauty. It feels good to polish the memories and reflect on past blessings. Examine what is accumulating; sift through and find the keepers. Share the good, throw out what is rotting. Get inspired. How refreshing! Lead me on, Lord.