I’ve waited for my youngest to go to bed. My eldest daughter is with her dad tonight, so now I’m alone as I start my journey to health and wholeness.
I waited to be alone before I opened The Box.
It was buried in my ex-husband’s garage. He finally unearthed and delivered it to me on the eve before my Big Move.
My Big Move
I say Big, because although I got remarried last month to the man who will be my Forever Home Here On Earth, I’m moving in with my parents. I’m moving all my things from this one bedroom apartment into my new husband’s home while I myself take a three month respite with my parents. All part of this thing called my Journey to Health and Wholeness.
I haven’t lived with my parents since I was eighteen. Then I went off to college and did the four year package. Got married on my twenty-second birthday. Was married eighteen years.
Then last year, I got divorced.
And now I’ve opened The Box.
The Box is a funny thing. Because I’m a dog person and it’s a square particle board box with cat paper on all four sides. A picture of a white cat. Nothing could be further from who I am.
For one thing, I’m deathly allergic to cats. Then there’s the fact that I rather loathe them.
But none of that matters. My Grandma gave me this cat box for Christmas when I was 10 years old. Now, I’m 41. This box has followed me everywhere for 31 years. It carries my most prized possessions, excluding my two children.
I’m sitting on the floor of my apartment in this old Victorian house in downtown Colorado Springs. Boxes and packing paper and odd things like my old bike are strewn around me. The contents of The Box are all laid out before me.
I’ve emptied it.
I felt queasy when I reached for the old gray scarf I knitted for my Grandpa when I was 10 years old. It’s much too short a scarf for a man, but I probably knitted until I grew tired of it and cast off.
The Little Box
Now I see The Little Box inside The Box. The Little Box is a handmade slanted writing box that my late grandfather made for me when I was in my first decade of life. I cherished this box. I kept all my postcards in it. In fact, my postcards are still there.
It’s so quaint that my grandfather attached a white plastic clip with a pencil holder from Tommy’s Cafe to the inside lid of the box. I used to keep my pencil clipped there. I used to write. I used to do my writing on this box. Until I graduated to journals while on my bed with my pillow under my journal.
And then I graduated to not writing.
The Little Box reminds me Who I Am. Another thing that is in The Box is a handful of journals from elementary school through college.
I’m much too tired after packing to go through them now.
I’m Coming Home
It’s enough to see The Little Box and know that I’m going home. This weekend I’ll be going home to Mom and Dad. To regain my health as I rest throughout the summer. AKA my Journey to Health and Wholeness. To recover my health that’s been precariously deteriorating through the stress of adulthood. Through the stress of overwork. And divorce. I don’t have time to be sick.
But beyond this, I’m coming home to Myself. I’m coming home to Peace.
And that’s what ChristianWomanHealth.com is all about. The journey of rediscovering health and wholeness.
I invite you to journey to health and wholeness with me. If you have a Box, maybe now would be a good time to open it.