Growing is Messy

I’ve been going through half a dozen large boxes full of papers and schoolwork (yes, even from kindergarten!).  Mostly I can’t believe I’ve kept all of this stuff, hauling it from here and there, hither and yon.  The weight of it all is heavy (on multiple levels), and I do wonder why I kept certain things, like notes passed from peers that were incredibly mean.   There I was, working on pre-Algebra problems, and notes would slip my way saying ugly and crass things.  And, I somehow thought those were worth keeping.  Maybe I deserved them or something.  Maybe they were mirrors.

But all of it has headed to the garbage and I am relieved.  I am not the picture others painted.  And I’m learning while going through the messes of past history that I’m not even the picture I thought I was, either.  What I see as an adult now was a sweet little girl, writing such tender things of rainbows, friends, flowers, dances, and horses.  I see her hunger to be loved, to be cherished.  I see her withdrawing in her teen years, cynical that it would ever come.  Mentally I give her the warmest embrace, and remind her of God’s grace.

I have two more boxes to go.  They are full of journals.  I can’t decide whether to read them before shredding, to revisit or remember.  Either way, I am sure that once I’m on the other side, I will be stronger.

Here is a little art-ing I did not too long ago.  At this stage I feel like the buds, still compact but warming in the Son, loosening.  This turned out a little too messy for me, but that’s all right.  Growing usually is.

Blessings,

Blessings,