As they look around with wide eyes at the sheer volume stacked in my tiny garage, people ask “How did THIS all start?” ~ I reply ~ Four Little Boxes
Well, this tale of four little boxes started long before any food delivery was involved. Let me explain..
There was a little girl, who had epilepsy. At the time, doctor recommendations to her parents were bleak. No formal education, No Marriage, No independent life, No children. My parents did not check any of these Four Little Boxes, instead telling me “You can be anything you set your mind to!”
There was a young man, grieving the loss of his father. 18 years wasn’t nearly long enough for Aaron to have with his Dad, only to come home in the evening all he owned packed up, homeless, in Four Little Boxes.
There was a mother, trailing her children behind her, like ducks in a row. My sister remembers judgement and shame were some of the biggest things served as we wound through the long food line. “Only take what you can carry” the nasty voice called to each of us, our Four Little Boxes.
There was a best friend who chose to end his life. The struggles of physical and mental anguish taking their toll. He only wanted one thing…. To die at home with us. So there, on the end of his bed we found he had politely packed his Four Little Boxes.
Let Me Be Clear ~ Everyone has Boxes ~ mine are nothing special.Some are defining moments, hurts, slights, even tragic loss. Will you store them up and build walls with them, or will you fill them with Compassion and Hope? Will you find someone with hurt in their eyes to give Four Little Boxes?
K.W. 2020