The Little Blue Box

There’s this box.  It is royal blue, its base neatly nested into the lid.  It is small and unassuming, measuring only 4 x 6 inches.  Its contents safely enclosed in a bubble wrap sleeve nesting on a pile of tissue tucked into the bottom.  The cargo so preciously swaddled that disturbing it almost seems disrespectful.  For the last three years, it has rested securely.  It’s been protected.  It’s remained untouched.

 

When my thoughts drift to the box, they are conflicted.  The contents themselves seem to command a respect for what once was.  And yet I'm fully aware that no amount of packaging materials can secure what remains.  What I've lost cannot be protected by tissue and bubble wrap.  The gift is not in the box. The true gift was because of the box.
 
This little blue box has changed my life has irrevocably.  I am not the same person I once was.  It was impossible to receive the gift and stay the same.  And this gift was, still is, so very precious that I’ve built walls and barriers to protect it leading many people to rightfully misunderstand my tears.  My anguish comes not from what was lost, but rather from not being able to fully appreciate what I had.
 
This little blue box has a tale to tell, a purpose in my life.  As I’m able I’m hoping to unwrap the contents, both literally and figuratively, over the weeks ahead.  The gift that was bestowed to me is too beautiful to keep packaged up in tissue and bubble wrap any longer.

Isaiah 61:1-3 NIV

¹The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me, …
²  … to comfort all who mourn,
³ and provide for those who grieve in Zion—
to bestow on them a crown of beauty
instead of ashes,
the oil of joy
instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise
instead of a spirit of despair.
They will be called oaks of righteousness,
a planting of the Lord
for the display of his splendor.