Aren’t you surprised where rabbit trails lead? I start down a charted path, wide, and clear of debris and obstacles. A cute little bunny hops into my path, takes the focus off of where I am going and the next thing I know I’m knee deep in poison ivy. Well, not always :).
This morning I was having my devotions speaking of joy and trials. At the end the song they had posted was the Christmas song Joy to the World. This is where the bunny trail began.
I listened to the Christmas song, ahhhh, I love Christmas, which took my mind to work (Christmas in July release), which took me to the something that is suppose to be a secret at work: a box. SHHHHHH!
When I first saw this tiny box at work my first reaction was,”I wonder what people are going to use that for?” THEN the designers come into play. Scads of samples come flooding in and end up in the room to be showcased. One day, on a tour, we were oogling all of the pretties when I saw this little decorative box, complete with an enormous snowflake. When I opened the box low and behold there were four Ghirardelli chocolates neatly tucked inside–the perfect size! Anyone that knows me knows that chocolate is one of my staples for life right up there with food, water, shelter, and, of course, glitter (that goes without being said).
After that, each time I went into that room I had to show everyone that box! A new, sparkly container for a “necessity of life”. Don’t you see the urgency in that?
As I am sitting here, coffee in hand, as dawn breaks, thinking of that decorative box, the rabbit trail begins. BUNNY!
Where does my mind go? The cracker box in the recycling. It’s big, bulky, and not a stitch of glitter is on it. We got our use out of it, so now now it is sitting in a bag with other “used up” items. In my mind I give life to inanimate objects, so I think about the life of that box.
Perhaps it began as a tree, a seeding, dropped from a family member, hovering, yet high above. Down, down, down, fell the cone or seed, landing with such impact it was embedded into the fertile soil of the forest floor.
It grew. Though wind, snow and hail raged, with the protection of the poised progenitors surrounding it, the sapling remained steadfast. Years passed. The fortitude of the forest was reflected in the strength of the mature tree.
Along came man.
The melody of the birds was drowned out by the roar of the saws drawing near. In a moment, decades of cultivation ceased and the journey of our cracker box began. To the saw mill, HOOOOO!
The protective layers of bark were stripped away in a flash! Our tree lay bare and vulnerable. First sheets then boards were cut for homes and businesses. On to the chips, “Send those for processing.” More blades and grinding, glue and pressure, a grey spool emerges.
With advertising paper adhered (but no glitter or pretties), precision cutting and additional glue, our box’s second life begins, but will not last the years of the previous. Filled with appetizing golden squares, they are shipped for ME to pick up and thus we have come full circle.
The box, devoid of contents, is to be met with yet another set of blades, more glue, and pressure that would crush our bones, all to begin a third life. Maybe this time it will have color added, be cut to size, and end up a tiny box, sparkly with glitter, filled with Ghirardelli chocolates. Maybe that pretty box will be given to someone whose eyes are dark with grief. The glimmer of glitter might bring the light of encouragement back to through the window of that soul.
Ohhh, what a third life could be for our empty cracker box.
Hebrews 12:1-2 Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.
Like the box, my life as I knew it, taking years to build was cut short in an instant. My second life of grief is painful, with lots of pressure and packaging that isn’t so pretty. I am trusting that at the end of this period of my life I will have opportunities to help bring joy and light to other hurting people. Oh, what a third life that would be.
Have a wonderful weekend and see you on Monday!