confessions of a pack rat

Life at present and in retrospect has been dominating this blog lately. Might it be because my life is fairly bursting? You know what? All this busyness and transition makes me realize... I love my life.

Guess what else? Being a pack rat helps me remember.

I sat on the kitchen floor of my new house for hours this weekend, sorting through boxes of possessions and keepsakes from eras of my life. Like walking through a museum, rediscovering familiar paintings.

 Realizations:

• I owe who I am to hundreds of people. My family. Countless friends, role-models and heroes. Teachers who affirmed my accomplishments and whose belief in me pushed me to earn honor roll certificates. Fifty-five second-grade students and tons of urban kids. Myriads of authors, who introduced me to lands, peoples, ideas, and animals since my mom taught me to read the ripe old age of four.

• "Life for me ain't been no crystal stair" (-Langston Hughes), but in every era there was always found salvation. And memories that made me smile fondly and laugh hysterically. Relationships change and some scenes are gone forever, but remembering both the painful and heartwarming leaves me with a more solid picture of who I am... and leaves me in awe of the God that kept His loving, guiding finger on me through the entire trip. I really don't know why I am who I am today; I can only attribute to God's protection. At so many points, in retrospect, I can't fathom why I didn't make some really hurtful choices... or even opt for a mediocre existence. It seems there has always been something... Someone... who, even when I didn't know it, assured me I didn't want that. Someone who gave the (once) timid, shy girl the guts to take the "road less traveled by... and that has made all the difference" (-Frost).

• I have a renewed trust that the Author of my life will finish the good work He's begun in me. I've found Him faithful, and the fact that the finding has come through complexity and gut-wrenching searching only adds to the beauty of where I am now. There is an exhilarating simplicity in the green pasture beyond the complexity of forests. 

The downside to being a (rather sentimental) pack rat is that stuff is a pain to move. And store. Something had to be done, so I did manage to cull two BOXES (I must admit) of keepsakes and narrow it down to one. (Look out, Salvation Army! You're about to receive a doNAtion... Before I have second thoughts about giving away all the cool things my students and friends gave me that in no way match my decor.)

Anyone want my childhood-long keychain collection? No, I'm keeping my grosmommy's tin penny bank that she gave to her namesake.