Boxes, boxes, boxes.
Well, boxes and paint samples. That’s what my life has consisted of recently.
Our family just moved. And we love our new house. But I’m weary of the boxes.
First we had to pack everything we owned into boxes. Now we’re unpacking all those same things out of their boxes.
And here’s what’s happened to my heart in the process…
I was halfway through The Joy Luck Club, but then I misplaced it among all the boxes. So I picked up the Harry Potter series again.
I relished re-entering the magical wizarding world. Each book got better than the last. Every time I rested, I read. I laughed and wept as the battle between good and evil unfolded, echoing the story God wrote on my heart before time began.
And then I would force myself to put the book down and unpack more boxes. And my heart would ache with the earthiness of the task. So mundane. So temporal. The difference between the two worlds created dissonance in my heart.
I thought, I don’t want to spend my time stripping wallpaper and stacking dishes and figuring out where to place the sofa and chairs. I want to join my friends in an epic battle of good versus evil!
Certainly my past few weeks have been more mundane than usual. But even during the most dramatic periods of my life, my days include far more “box” moments than “battle” moments.
It’s hard for me to live with this tension sometimes. Do you feel it too?
How do you keep slogging forward through the daily tasks of life when it feels like so many more important things need to get done?
I think both kinds of moments—box and battle—must hold significance. I mean even Harry Potter had to finish his homework. And Jesus himself labored quietly as a carpenter until age 30.
But I wrestle more with the box moments. Sometimes it’s difficult for me to find meaning in them.
How do I resolve this? Or should I?
PS: I finished the whole Harry Potter series. Totally. Awesome.