What's in all my filing cabinets and boxes? I don't know. I have one full-sized, four drawer cabinet plus two small cabinets. That number doesn't include at least one cardboard box, one plastic file box, and four plastic totes. Included in the cabinets are: ten years worth of tax returns and tax related paper work, material I have written, maps and camping lists, warranties and service manuals, etc. The plastic totes contain letters and cards, photographs, newspaper clippings, and family history records.
I also have records from my husband's father and aunt who have been dead for a couple decades.
As I have been working up enough courage to tackle all those papers, I remembered the picture I painted when I first started therapy; a self portrait is what Dr. B. requested. She wanted me to put down on paper an image of how I saw myself. That was a real challenge and one of my first steps toward healing.
I sat down at my kitchen counter-table-thingy, pencil in hand, and stared at a sheet of paper. I knew I could draw a rough representation of myself in my usual blue jeans and turtleneck shirt. I could draw glasses on my face and scribble graying hair on my head. I could even remove my extra twenty pounds if I wanted to to. Once sketched out, I colored myself in--differing shades of blue for my pants, pink shirt, gray hair. But I didn't do an instant, weight loss picture. I wanted to be as honest about my self image as I could. My exterior was the easy part. My inside part was harder to discover?
As I mulled over the few emotions I had at the time, I could picture my brain as a storage vault filled with filing cabinets. Instead of "everything in its proper place", drawers were open and their contents strewn everywhere. Papers were on the floor, on tops of cabinets, and hanging over the edges of drawers. Some papers were torn, others walked on, and some even bloodied. Nothing was where I had tucked it away. Nothing could be easily located. All was in complete chaos.
Now that the mental mess has some semblance of order, I know things are filed differently than they were before. Memories and events that had been filed in their separate folders have now had copies made and mixed in with other files because I am slowly learning that life is not composed of singular events. It is an accumulation of experiences, each one building upon the other.
I used to have a God file. It was filled with information that I had learned, prayers that had been answered, songs that I loved, and special moments that I felt his presence. But God can't be filed away as a once-upon-a-time memory. I now see him more as the Master of my Memory Vault who knows exactly what I need to know or remember, then brings it to my attention by handing it to me face to face. He doesn't bring just memories of one incident, he often includes a present day situation and says, "Do you see my hand in these two events? Do you see the wonders I have worked?"
He hands me memories of my childhood as well as my college days. He shows me times of camping and playing with my family. He shows me his presence in the delivery room as well as at my dying mother's bedside. I see him dancing in my joys and grieving in my sorrows. Although I might not have acknowledged him when these events were happening, I realize more and more that he was hard at work in every situation. My spiritual eyes still cannot see him clearly, and maybe never will, but he is there.
He is no longer filed away under "G".
Anticipating a GOD day,
Jan, Licorice Kitty and Kittens,
(I have to start finding homes for the little ones. They are six weeks old now. From what I read, eight weeks is an ideal time for adoption. Lord, help me.)
No comments:
Post a Comment