Monday, January 18, 2016

Box of Answered Prayers


Collin's boy scout troop listened to the high school basketball coach and met the team.


They even sat on the bench.


The boys were giddy (and strangely subdued) to be around the team.



A box full of answered prayers.


Another box with answered prayer.

Right now, Guns N' Roses' "Welcome to the Jungle" is blaring from my upstairs thanks to the gentlemen re-carpeting our floors.  It seems appropriate; right now our house feels like a jungle.  To re-carpet, practically everything that could be moved from upstairs has been transported to the main level.  By looking at our downstairs, you would think this is a family of hoarders.  Looking at the display downstairs, I feel (sickly) like a family of hoarders.

This is our second round of chaos in a week.  Painters came last week and the house looked equally as turbulent.  Living in this state has made it easy to feel out-of-sorts and disagreeable.

To even get to this level of disorder, we spent time weeding through possessions and cleaning out closets.  The process was both tedious and eye-opening.  As I pulled out old photos and unearthed dust boxes, I realized what these items meant. 

A whole wicker basket was filled with magazines.  Those magazines included articles I had written for those publications.  It was a box filled of answered prayers, I quickly realized.  I had prayed for opportunities to write and magazines interested in my work.  The box was tangible proof of answered prayers.

But, that wasn't all.

The bridal trousseau box.

The baby pictures.

The boxes filled with birthday cards from dear friends.

The diplomas.

The running bibs.

The vacation photos.

There were boxes and closets filled with answered prayers that I've been too busy to acknowledge.  When I looked at the piles of accumulated stuff in this way, my feelings of discord were replaced with gratefulness.




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