I was talking to my friend tonight and in the course of our conversation, we were talking about all the boxes of stuff in our houses. For her, it's stuff from her life, having moved a few times over the years. For me, I have stuff of my own as well as boxes from my mom's house. We were commiserating about having to "go through" them and clean out. But each item in each box tells a story; that's what makes it so hard to ditch. I was reminded of what treasures are in my parents boxes when I found letters written between my parents as my dad traveled on the road, often for weeks at a time. So many times he wrote lines to the effect of, "I don't have enough money to get to my next destination. I'll just have to trust God will provide." And sure enough, within hours often, someone in the church he was at would hand him $10 or $20 so he could get to the next series of meetings. I am often sad that I didn't take the time to talk to my parents more of their spiritual journeys through life. I am thankful that all the "junk" in the boxes lets me hear their story of God's love and faithfulness to them.
