Unpacking the Box

Hello again.  Wanna help me unpack?  Any help provided in these matters is always valued and appreciated.

I know the question about unpacking sounds weird but if you take a minute to read the last blog entry it will make sense.

I mentioned that the time box from my youth created a whirlwind of emotions and thoughts.  It was very stirring.

It is important to note and differentiate the difference between being stirred and troubled about something.

Both tend to have an unsettling dimension… a sensation of slow bubbling fermentation.  But to me, both are very different at the core.

Stirring has the sense of something loosening up or breaking apart.  These are old encrusted things being freed from their casement of distorted perspective, faulty memory or erroneous beliefs at a given time in our past.

At the core it is a good thing (uncomfortable… even scary… but good).

Troubled has an ominous feel and is sinister in nature.  Troubling things poke at us demanding attention… all of our attention.  It can easily suck us into a black hole taking us down.

What I am feeling is stirred.  There is something in all of this for me that creates a sense of anticipation… even excitement.

I know that poking around the past can be a bit dicey if not careful.  But our past in proper perspective provides amazing insight to who we are, what we believe and wonderful context to the journey we are on.

The Box

One of the first things I found was a yellowed envelope that had a sort of fabric feel because the stiffness of the paper had deteriorated.  I gently opened the flap and inside was beautiful blond curls of hair… my hair.  It felt weird seeing my childhood hair.

I looked on the envelope and in faded pencil was written, “Jerry’s curls – age 3”.  I have some pictures of me at that age sporting a head full of blond curly hair.  I thought about posting one but that would have been weirder.

Side Note: The items in a time box tell more about the person who saved and packed the box than the specific subject of those items.

As I waded through the box I was beginning to understand more about my mom than learning things about myself.

At the time of the cutting of the curls my mother was a 28 year old woman with three boys (a fourth died shortly after birth).   She had married at the age of 17 to a man who was a migrating country preacher; 10 years her senior… times were hard.

With the envelope I saw a young mother trying to hold on to a snippet of time by capturing the essence of children she loved.  Maybe it was her small way to stop time in a life wrapped in the continuous motion of church, moving and three rambunctious boys under the age of 7.

It makes me wonder what I would pack in a time box.  What would it say about me?  What would your time box say about you?

Interesting things for me to ponder as I continue to unpack my box.

See you Monday.

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