Give me five minutes with a person’s checkbook, and I will tell you where their heart is.
Insightful words I thought told my heart’s story revealed in the boxes of our house all packed up as the property we have rented for the last three years has been sold.
One doesn’t usually take inventory or keep a ledger of “things” accumulating on the shelves of our homes from week to week.
But when that SOLD sign reminds you from the kitchen window while doing dishes it’s time to move, you realize and feel the weight of all the “stuff” when the closets are emptied into those cardboard boxes headed for storage, each telling a story of Who I am.
A friend of my girlfriends we jokingly referred to as Madame Blueberry, a Veggie Tales character who kept accumulating “stuff” from the Stuff-Mart became me after realizing our boxes filled up two storage units when only three years ago we filled up one. Yep, words do come back.
But it was in the mundane process of item after item passing through my hands to be bubble wrapped or trashed, each getting my attention for a second or two, prodding the question as how these things fit in the story of
Who I am.
It’s easy to answer when the treasures I pause to hold and remember date back to the earlier years of my children’s lives.
Like those special outfits I couldn’t part with or their precious milestones they reflect; first day in church, baby dedication, Christmas and Easter dresses or suits. This list goes on for days.
Special toys, school day mementoes, sports memorabilia.
Don’t even get me started on the pictures.
Multiply all of this when the grandchildren came.
Why can’t I part with their bottles or pacifiers or their old bikes still sporting training wheels they outgrew years ago?
I dare not part with my grandchildren’s crib I stood beside many nights in the midnight hour tending to their needs while they spent the night at Gaga’s house.
I lost an afternoon reliving the best day ever, getting lost in those beloved boxes of our 25th Wedding Anniversary just one year ago. Remembering a day I’ll never forget, surrounded by our dearest friends and family at the altar of our thankfulness for 25 years of marriage.
Of course, my Hobby Lobby finds took up most of the bubble wrap and storage, always begging the question, “What in the world was I thinking and whose party was I decorating for when I bought all this stuff?”
Would I do it again…..uh, laughingly, David knows I would.
I’m a mother.
I’m a grandmother.
I’m a wife.
I’m a crafter and party decorator.
This is Who I am.
The facets of my life are written on the pages and chapters that tell a story of
Who I am.
At least, they tell a story of who I think I am.
It’s interesting that God decides to add his own chapter to my story one week before we close the door and lock up behind us at this house for the very last time.
I haven’t been able to pack one remaining closet as the decorations to my mother’s 80th birthday celebration are waiting their reveal tomorrow afternoon.
With sadness, our mother’s milestone birthday will be an outside event with her watching from a nursing home window due to the current circumstances that mandate.
But you bloom where you’re planted.
You create and decorate
For a mother most deserving…
Princess for a Day Event.
Honoring that little girl in our mother who quite possibly never thought of herself or was celebrated as the princess God has always seen in her these last 80 years.
I decided that along with our mother, every girl, young or old attending this Princess for a Day event,
Be celebrated also as the princess she is with their own crown and scepter.
The little princes will also be celebrated as royal heirs with swords in their own honor.
Sometimes I forget the conversations I’ve had with my daughters when they see their mirrored reflection not as God sees them.
I remind my girls when their eyes deceive them,
“This circumstance doesn’t reflect who you are.”
“Because your true self is reflected from the face of
Whose You Are.”
You are a child of God, created in His image, in His likeness, fearfully and wonderfully, an heir to the throne with His Son, Jesus.
Yes God, thank you for reminding me that it’s not
Who I think I am.
WHOSE I AM.
Forever and ever,