Garage

The storage boxes, the shelves

They're a little less full, a little less disorganized. 

I finally plucked out the motivation (the discipline to leave the kitchen for a little while) and opened these things I've left behind

Different boxes holding different tokens from my life, holding different things from the different phases, making it so recognizable when that box came about, which part of my life those little pieces and bits were collected.

Combed through the boxes holding different things: 

camp name tags, lanyards (I have plenty)  yearbooks, little notes, random gifts. I even found a huge box of price tags from the clothes I purchased, mind you

A whole drawer full of hair accessories that were necessities during all my years in ballet, boxes of postcards from all over the world-

But long story short I threw a whole bunch of things out. 

And it's funny because the whole reason why all these things were collected was because I thought keeping them physically was the only way of keeping a certain bit of the past in memory. 

I didn't even know I had a few hundred bobby pins, easily more than a dozen hairnets and a great deal of scrunchies and ribbons and fancy clips. It's crazy how my parents invested so much in me, and it breaks me a little to know I was not so invested in these, and just tucked them in a drawer. 

It was easier this time, throwing a lot of things out.

All that browsing through and sorting brought back a whole rush of memories and reminiscing. But being away and moving from a place to another has taught that you can't hold onto everything. You can't bring your box of collected price tags or lanyards with you. Those little stickers, the little notes. You can't pack them into your suitcase because of baggage constraint, because you pick clothes and books and letters more close to the heart instead. You won't bring your stash of everything because you soon realize you don't need it, and that you can live without it. 

So a great deal of things have been taken out. All those past bulletin books, camp schedules, etc etc. The little notes and cards and gifts got filtered from one box to another- marking how so many things have changed all this time, and these are things to keep. For little laughs, reminiscing of lessons, reflections of life all bittersweet. 

It was nice. A heartwarming kind of nice, walking through childhood once more. 

But I threw them out-- there needs to be more room for what's coming and in store. It feels good with more space in the shelves and drawers, if I may add. 

And not to worry. The bits of the past have a safe place in my head and my heart. 

"I want to know what you ache for. It doesn't interest me how old you are, I want to know if you are willing to risk looking like a fool for love, for your dreams, for the adventure of being alive. I want to know if you can live with your failures, yours and mine. It doesn't interest me where you live or how rich you are, I want to know if you can get up after a night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and be sweet to the ones you love. I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and truly like the company you keep in the empty moments of your life." 

Some days

We all grow up. 

Being away for long, and then coming back has it's difference.

Kids who used to line up for piggy back rides and tickles are now running around and playing ball. They catch me glancing their way and from their expressions I see the neurons in their brains slowly click-- they finally recognize who the girl in the thick rimmed glasses is, and smile at the recognition, and wave. 

We -a boy who used to insist on following me home after Sunday School to play and I- meet halfway. I ask about school. He tells me he hates the homework and points out his new glasses. I tell him to soak it in, to enjoy the comfort of home and work towards greater things that are yet to come because every day spent is another day closer to being away from home; and no one told us that-- or at least we chose to shake it off our minds and shoulders, because we just didn't understand what that meant. 

He tells me he wants to grow up and that his glasses are a pain. I tell him I want to turn back to his age, and remind him again that that pair of glasses makes him no less handsome. 

I bite my tongue as I am about to start telling him of what's it's like being away from home and how life can be tough. Because probably right now at this point of his life tough would mean having to finish the endless piles of work, memorizing his spelling or needing to constantly push his glasses up his nose while playing football, while his friends push him around for being the only kid in glasses in class (I tell him glasses are now tools to make fashion statements, but he didn't look too convinced). Just like how we thought something was impossibly big and terrifying at some point of our lives, we soon come to see that it comes behind us. He will grow up and he will see, and he might handle things better than I did and do. Everyday, we grow up. 

So I tell him to take each day as it comes and wish him a good week. No exchange of bear hugs this time, because he's already a boy much more grown up than the last I saw him. There is this pang of unsettlement, because deep down I miss swinging him in the air and playing piggy back. 

But he's grown up now. 

This was all inspiring. Mildly heartbreaking (how selfish of me) but wholly thought provoking. Have I grown up too? By how much? Do I grow everyday? On whose strength? His, who made me, or mine? 

It's pretty exciting-- this journey that we're on. Uncertain in all it's ways; a test of faith. But exciting all the same. 

He is consistent in all life's inconsistencies 

& good where no goodness can be found 

Pastures

Today I had another taste of what being wrapped safe and secure in His hands felt like. It was dangerous, it was unconventional of days. But when He holds you and keeps you, you will never go drowning in deep waters alone. Or never will you fall apart when you crash fast and furious. 

Today would have been different without the undeserving support, patience and back up of a good friend and my family. Nothing is greater than having people to turn to who are willing to take you in times of the good and the bad & the ugly, with such grace. Which blew my mind away because if people could love me like how they did today and any other day (which is completely overwhelming), the grace He gives is then by comparison so immeasurably much more. Beyond what you and I can both comprehend. He is a God who hears, warns & protects. There is nothing greater than being loved even when it is undeserved. 

It could have been traumatizing. But He is the Prince of Peace. I sit here unscathed and can find no other words to say.