Boxes and Bubble-wrap

They stood, imposing. Silently surrounding the house that had been freshly coated with white paint. Some crowded at the front door. Others congregated at the large glass sliding door that led out onto the wooden deck where the pool glistened blue under a safety net. The crash of waves could be heard not too far away. A steady oceanic roar that would not be going anywhere soon.

They were all big, brown and square. Holders of memories and moments. One of them was labelled “Teddy-bears and toys”. Another, “Camping stuff.” A box labelled “Gizmos and gadgets” lay on its side and a box entitled glasses balanced precariously on top of a pile of blankets.

When you open the boxes and their insides begin to come out, the real move begins. All those memories wrapped in bubble-wrap and packed into boxes. As you haul each item out of a box and unwrap it you are transported to a memory in another place, another season. Some of the items may have been unused for years. You may have forgotten you even owned them. Back at the old place, you packed them into a box for fear of losing the memory of them.

Boxes lie around. Some opened and empty, their contents having been packed into a new cupboard or space in the house with the freshly painted white walls. Others are half unpacked with pieces of torn bubble-wrap lying like shiny foam next to them. There is a growing collection of boxes that fall in the category, ‘Don’t know what to do with this.’

Life unpacked…

Gradually, a life is packed out of boxes. A life that needs to settle into the new place with the fresh white walls. It is quite daunting until…

…that first evening, when the family sits down for their first meal around their familiar old dining room table in the new house with the white walls. You couldn’t wrap this up in boxes and bubble-wrap. The love. The warmth. The laughter. Tears for friends left behind. Hope of new friendships. The anticipation of a new season in a new place and new adventures. Mom placing the family’s favourite dish on the table. The kids arguing. Everyone agreeing … or disagreeing. Making plans for tomorrow.

The new walls are not home, just as the old ones weren’t. Home is the bond of love. The family. Which cannot be boxed and bubble-wrapped. Home is where the heart is. And the following scripture settles the question for me:

Matthew 6:21

“For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

Sandy: (Earlier this year, Chris and I helped our oldest son, his wife and their two children move into their new home. It got me thinking… and the above ramblings were the result.)