I am kind of sentimental… ok that’s a lie, I am sentimental to a fault. So when my mom told me she was cleaning out my old room and came across a giant box under my bed of high school crap I was scared. I liked to take way too many pictures, keep notes my friends wrote me in class, and save any and all journals. I was a super dramatic writer back then (glad I grew out of that…). She delivered it recently and it has been sitting in my garage for a few weeks (like 8 because I am also a huge procrastinator) until today. It’s Sunday and the kids are asleep and my husband doesn’t sit still well so he decided he wanted to clean out the garage. I walked outside to him trying to sort through said box. I assured him that this was in fact, the worst idea he’s ever had (and we’ve been married for 6 years) and told him I’d go through it. I quickly had a giant mound of stuff that belonged in a trash can. I have never been more thankful for two things, that Steve Jobs hadn’t created the iphone and that social media wasn’t a thing. Praise Jesus for my black and white screen Nokia that contained one cool feature, the snake game.
There in a mound on the floor lay four years of my life… very well documented I should add. Four years of Friday nights, proms, school events, a single picture from that year I did track to get in shape for swim suit season, a graduation cap, a Britney spears CD, and various notes. Years of memories and I held onto to about 4% of it. I managed to save a few notes from my family that are irreplaceable, a few pictures of friends that were sweet, one prom photo of me and my mom, and a few bibles that have very crisp pages from never being opened. Only one tiny pile worth saving from four years of memories.
Sitting in my house with my husband in the garage and sleeping babies upstairs I am reminded why I was so passionate about sharing my story with young girls, because one day you end up where I am today, sitting in front of a mountain of memories and asking yourself if any of this is worth saving? Here I was sitting in front of a box full photos that I have to ask my husband not to look through, beer bottles in hand and bully button ring loud and proud (which FYI doesn’t look so hot after growing babies… just something to think about). Mounds of memories I’d rather forget. Mounds of memories I wish I could throw away as easily as I did the box they came in.
I can clearly see it, this lie Satan has been feeding us since creation, “God is holding out on you.” The lie that lead me into years of searching, drinking, regretting, and believing that I could do it better. The lie that seems so clear now that I can hear truth scream from every part of this little walk down memory lane that living for yourself is not really living at all.
I wish I could go back and tell tiny tube top wearing me that there was a really great man out there that I would one day meet and marry so walk away from the pointless relationships that will cause huge insecurities. I wish I could tell her about the kids whose little face would line the walls and fill her heart. I wish I could tell her to walk away from it all and into the life God had for her (and for heaven sakes put a full length shirt on). I can’t though, but somewhere along the way I decided I can tell you. I can pray that one day you won’t be unpacking the same box full or regret and wishing you had listened to little voice that had whispered “taste and see that the Lord is good.”
4 I sought the Lord, and he answered me;
he delivered me from all my fears.
5 Those who look to him are radiant;
their faces are never covered with shame.
6 This poor man called, and the Lord heard him;
he saved him out of all his troubles.
7 The angel of the Lord encamps around those who fear him,
and he delivers them.
8 Taste and see that the Lord is good;
blessed is the one who takes refuge in him.