Strange how things happen. I was on my out through the garage Wednesday afternoon to do some yard work. I wanted to snip the growth on my crepe myrtles before it became unmanageable, when I noticed the boxes I had yet to unpack. (They have been sitting there for six years.) Most of them are books and I have no place to put them because I do not have a bookcase large enough to hold them, so I have left them packed. But, Wednesday I stopped and looked at the boxes and thought, "Why not." So, I began to open the first box.
As expected the box was full of books for the most part. Not ordinary books though, this box was filled with bibles that had, at one time, been used by my children, a close friend, and me. As I took them out to examine them, memories and tears began to flood. My mom's bible that Claudette used after her grandma died was the first. Mom, how I miss you... Aren't you glad you went to church with me that long ago Sunday morning? I was so surprised that morning. As we were dressing I noticed you were dressing too, and I asked you what you were doing. You told me that you thought you would go with me and the kids. I nearly danced a jig!!! How many times before had you said no when I asked if you wanted to go? I finally told you that I would not bother you any more about going but that when you got ready, just let me know and you would be more than welcome to go with us. I didn't stop praying though mom... I am going to give Claudette the bible when I see her next. I think she will enjoy having it.
I also found Chrystal's and Booger's bibles. More memories and more tears. I will keep Booger's for awhile; maybe, one day I will give it to David, if he wants it. I gave Chrystal hers on Thursday, during lunch. It put a smile on her face... so many memories tied up in their childhood bibles.
I found one of mine that I had used for years. It is probably thirty-four or thirty-five years old. There is a poem tucked into its pages entitled "God's Loan." It starts off with "I'll lend you for a little time this child of mine, he said, For you to have the while he lives and mourn for when he's dead..." The poem was given to my sister-in-law to give to me after the death of Johnny.
Another paper tucked into those pages was something I had written years ago about two of my sons. About them standing with the wind running its fingers through their blond hair. Man, am I the biggest cry baby or what? Old memories are so very precious, but they certainly have a way of brimming the eyes with tears...
With in that box I also found a pair of tennis shoes that Booger and David wore when they were very small. It is hard to believe that they were once very small. At least at that age I was able to protect them from some of the pain and troubles of this old world. It would be nice if that were possible again.
Along with the shoes I found a bootee that I had crocheted for Booger while he was in the hospital trying to grow enough to come home. It is so very, very tiny! Those who knew him would not believe how small he once was... I miss you boys so much! Are you giving grandma a run for her money? She never knew you this side of heaven, but I know she would have recognized you immediately.
The next box was filled with old year books: so many books and so many memories. Memories of my children and their friends locked into the pages of these reminders of a different time. I don't know what I will do with these books. I couldn't bring myself to look into them, but I will at another time because tucked into one end of that box were two folders and a booklet that needed examination first.
One folder contained cards and notes that had been given to me from the members of one of my psychology classes and work Booger and David had done in elementary school. Yep, more tears...
These really cute pieces of work brought a chuckle too. One was a poem David wrote about a pig!
One folder contained John's journal from Mr. Pope's English class. He hated journal writing and probably would not have been pleased to know that his mother would one day use the same technique with her students. Some of his entries were similar to ones I have seen many times: "Why do we have to write these dumb journals? No one likes to write them. Doesn't Mr. Pope have anything better to do than to make us write these?..." But, then there were the ones that nearly stopped my heart. One in particular asked the question, "If I died, would anyone remember me?" Oh, Johnny, if you only knew how often you are remembered and by how many. You have not been forgotten son, not by a long shot. In another he wrote of how he wanted to join the army but felt that they would not take him because of the surgery he had had to mend his intestines when they were ruptured. I never knew this about you John... Another was his descriptions of his brothers' and sisters' personalities. That was cute and right on!!!
I didn't open the booklet Booger made in first or second grade. I just did not think my heart could take it. So many sweet, sweet memories mixed with the pain of separation. Nope, that booklet will have to wait for another day.
I never made it to the crepe myrtle and then the rain started. Perhaps tomorrow, if it does not rain.
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