I’ve been thinking a lot about change lately. This is a year of big changes for us. Our fourth and youngest child could be starting college as early as this summer. Parenting has been my main gig since I was 25 years old. Other than some part-time jobs here or there, raising our four children has been my main focus and purpose in my life. Whether I’m ready for it or not, I am getting mostly retired from my career here, in a few short months. While saying this, I fully understand that we will always be mothers for life, but if we mothers have done our jobs right, then this mothering gig should be nothing more than a side hustle, and a supportive role, once the kiddos graduate from high school. I pray that I’ve done my job right.
Sometimes we actively create the changes in our own lives. We see things in our lives that are not going in the direction that we like, such as personal habits, relationships, careers, spending patterns, etc. and we change our own course, purposefully, and intentionally. More often than this, though, is that change happens around us, and we learn to adapt. We end up having to change for the change. There is no other choice but to adjust and to evolve, or otherwise stay stubbornly frustrated and recalcitrant, sometimes to the point of our own demise.
The other day, I was writing holiday thank you notes. I picked up my small recipe box, with the now quite faded title, “My Bride’s File”. I have had this box for the 27 years I’ve been married, plus the year before that, when I was engaged to be married. This little coated cardboard box has made it through moving to seven different locations, in three different states. The mailing addresses that this little box holds, contains the most important people, to me, in my lifetime. Some are originals. Their card is the original card that states whether or not they were making it to our wedding, and whether or not we wrote “a thank you” for their wedding gift. I may have had to cross out a few addresses to make room for new addresses, but the card itself is an original. Eventually I ran out of “original cards” that came with this box, so I purchased brightly colored notecards in order to make room for the new colorful people who came along, throughout the years, as new and wonderful parts and influences of our family’s life and experiences. The box holds a rainbow.
For the first time, in a long, long time, I consciously contemplated this box. It is faded. It is scratched. It is honestly kind of grimy. (I admit that I took a lemon bacterial wipe and I wiped it down really well.) I don’t consider myself to be a hoarder. Although I can be stubborn and reluctant to new technology, I have adapted throughout the years. (I figured out how to publish this blog all on my own, right?) I realize that most people put their loved one’s mailing addresses in a computer application now. It makes sense. It’s efficient. It doesn’t take up room or waste paper. Addresses are easy to change on computer applications. Most of our Christmas cards that we received this year, were addressed with computer printed stickers which were much neater and readable than my sloppier than ever handwriting. I also realize that it is believed that traditional “snail mail” itself will probably become obsolete in the near future. I can see how this might help “save the Earth.”
Still, my box. My beloved “My Bride’s File” box. The beloved people in their beloved places that they call home, that this box holds for me. The beloved people’s names written in my own handwriting, spanning 27+ years. My box. My beloved “My Bride’s File” Box. I know that change is inevitable. I know that adaption is crucial for survival. Still, my box. My box. My box stays.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
