A Tribute to my mother who boxes things, but not people.
Box Collectors
Ever since I was a little girl, my mom has collected boxes. Every box she ever received, she stored in our attic. This included appliance boxes, technology boxes, and gift boxes. It was quite the assortment. It showed a visual history of our lives, a time capsule of sorts.
Sometimes it came in handy. At one point, my parents were robbed. They were able to show the insurance agent the actual boxes for purchases of a computer, a video camera, etc. The boxes acted as receipts for the insurance agent who was able to look up the exact items and reimburse for replacements.
When it was time to give a gift or wrap a present, we would climb up the attic ladder and search for just the right box. Gift-giving and receiving is my mom’s love language. She always has the right size box, beautiful wrapping paper, ribbons, handmade gift tags, and scotch tape on hand.
Christmas Boxes
As children at Christmas time, we would tear open the wrapping paper and find our gifts in random boxes. To this day, my dad always receives chocolate covered cherries for Christmas. Yes, we kept the box. So as a child, when I opened the box marked “chocolate-covered cherries,” inside I might find socks or underwear. As we grew older, it was fun to guess what might be in the shoe box. Jewelry? A camera? A raincoat? Or what was in the Montgomery Wards shirt box? Placemats? Napkins? A framed picture for the wall? My dad could always guess correctly, which made my mom mad because she tried to trick him, but it made all the rest of us laugh.
Silver Boxes
In the early 1990’s my mom read a book called, Silver Boxes: The Gift of Encouragement, by, Florence Littauer. Littauer writes, “When our words come out of our mouths, they should be like little presents all wrapped up to be given away. These words are like gifts wrapped in silver boxes.” My mom loved the book and wrapped up silver boxes for herself and others to remind us to be encouraging.
Boxing up Emotions
When I first moved out at 18, my mom immediately boxed up the items that I left behind in my bedroom. She was so sad to see me gone that she couldn’t look at them. When I came back a few weeks later to grab the rest of my belongings, she said they were stored in boxes in the basement. I remember looking for a particular book, but couldn’t find it.
About 10 years later, my husband and I purchased our first home. My mom and dad came to visit that very first week. They drove 650 miles just to deliver those packed up boxes from my childhood.
Present Day Boxes
Now my parents only live 12 miles away. When I was getting ready to redo my kitchen after the CARR fire, I needed boxes to pack up all of my plates, glasses, bowls, pots, and pans. I already had a few boxes. Then I went to Home Depot and purchased a few specialty boxes for glassware. After that, I called my mom, because she always has extra boxes!
In fact, she had 10-20 more computer-paper boxes available. I was excited because they are a terrific size for kitchen items, so I borrowed about 10 of them. Imagine my surprise when my mom made me label all of her boxes so that I wouldn’t get them mixed up with my boxes. She wanted them back as soon as I was finished.
At first, I was a little perturbed. I thought this was a bit ridiculous. My mom still had 10 plus boxes at her house. Who needs to store 20 computer boxes? Why did she need them all back right away? What was the harm of mixing up my boxes with her boxes?
But then my mom showed up with her black sharpie and newspaper. She was the only person who helped me wrap all of my dishes, and stemware, and vases. She loving placed them in the boxes she had provided and labeled the fronts. That’s when I realized it doesn’t matter how many boxes she wanted back. My mom likes to have the boxes to organize “things”, but she never boxes up or packs away people.
“Boxed up” As a Little Girl
When I was in 6th grade, I met a girl named Susan at summer camp. We hit it off, and later that summer, we got together for a concert at her church. When I arrived, her mother introduced me to everyone as, “Susan’s little Nazarene friend.” I was confused because although we attended a Nazarene church at the time, I never thought of myself as a “Nazarene”, only a Christian. And since Susan went to a different denominational church, I felt like the comment was divisive. It seemed as if she was singling me out to everyone. I kept wanting to explain myself and focus on likenesses, but I never had the chance. It was an uncomfortable feeling, and because of it, I never visited her in person again.
When I got home, I asked my mom about it. She told me that some people like to put others into boxes. These people believe that they don’t need to get to know you; instead, they find it easier to learn a few facts about you, then generalize the rest. I knew right then and there that I didn’t want to be like those kinds of people. Instead, I wanted to search for positives and uniqueness in others. I wanted to search for connections that united instead of divided.
My Mom
My mom boxes up items for storage. She boxes up and lovingly wraps gifts for others. She may even box up emotions like she did when I first moved away from home, but she never boxes up people. Instead, she lovingly unwraps the boxes they might feel trapped in and encourages them to escape and be the unique individuals that God created them to be. I remember time after time of examples of people from all walks of life, coming to our home to receive love and acceptance from my mom.
Linda
When I was about 5 years old, I remember a young girl, ringing the doorbell late at night. She’d came to the house to talk to my mom after a bad date. Why did she pick my mom? Because she knew my mother would listen to her heart and pray. Even though it was probably inconvenient, and highly unusual, my mom never batted an eye. She quickly put us to bed and counseled until 2:00 a.m.
Eric and his Bride
There was a time when mom had a group of long-haired, barefooted friends who recently left a commune. We went to a wedding of two of them. They were so happy. Instead of saying, “cheese” for photographs, they said “Jesus”, and they smiled so big! Their joy was too immense and alive to be contained in a box.
Debbie
When I was in 2nd grade, my mom invited an 18-year-old girl who had been kicked out of her home to live with us. Her problems were vast and overflowed the box she tried to store them in. My mother helped gently unpack and unwrap each challenge. She stood beside this young adult and guided her through one step at a time. There were weekly doctor visits, counseling sessions, and surgeries. My mom drove her to every visit. She encouraged her to enroll in classes at the community college which led to a degree in communications. When she was ready, my mother helped her move into her own apartment.
The Dinner Table
I grew up in Los Angles. Almost every demographic shared meals at our dinner table at one time or another. Laughter and honesty brought us together over Mom’s casseroles. We shared ideas and conversations. No one was ever stereotyped, labeled, boxed up, or shipped out. All were told about the Lord, fed, and loved-on by my mom.
At Present
Which brings us to today. If my mom is grabbing a hamburger at Carl’s Junior after church, she talks to people at the other tables and makes friends. She chats with others at the grocery store. She has a constant eye out for the lonely or discouraged. I don’t think she even realizes it. Finding others to encourage is just as natural as breathing for her.
Even just recently, on a trip home from Denver, Colorado, my mom made a friend in the airport as we waited for a connecting plane in San Francisco. When our flight canceled, we rented a car to drive the last leg of the journey, and we took my mom’s new friend with us. My parents dropped her safely home and have talked to her since on the phone. My children smiled as they watched their grandma in action. They know that she makes friends and assists whenever she can.
In Conclusion
It’s ironic that my frustration over some borrowed boxes triggered such pleasant memories. When I started to vent over the ridiculous, I realized the importance of the obvious. Although I returned the tangible borrowed boxes to my mother, I will keep the important lessons that she’s modeled for me for a lifetime.
These include:
All people are unique and have value.
Stereotypes fall away when you take the time to get to know someone.
Everyone deserves love and encouragement.
Reach out and lend a hand when you can.
My mom may box things, but never people, and that’s what’s important!
