The Boxes in My Mind

The Boxes in My Mind

I was taking inventory of the things in my mind one day. There were so many boxes sitting around. As I went from box to box, I lifted each lid to see what was inside. “Oh yes, I remember these things,” the memories washed over me like ocean waves, I struggled to remain standing.

Inside the box was the day I married my husband, the births of our children, and many Christmas memories. On and on I went. Then I noticed a box sitting in the corner. I had seen it before, all wrapped up in pretty paper with a large bow on top. I wondered to myself, “Why have I never opened this box?” Today was different, I thought; something was tugging, even pulling me to open the box.

My desire to open it kept growing greater by the moment. As I approached the box, I thought I could hear voices. Someone was saying something. I just couldn’t quite grasp what the voice was saying. My excitement was now nearly uncontrollable as I reached for the lid. I just couldn’t imagine what beautiful memory could be inside this pretty package.

I touched the lid and ever so carefully began to open it. My excitement faded quickly. The voice was coming from inside the box. Still muffled, but it was certainly within. Then to my horror, as I removed the lid, the voice became very clear.
“You are worthless!” it cried out to me. “You are not the person you used to be!”
What was this? Where were all these ugly things coming from?
“You are a stress and strain on your family,” it continued. “You have put all the financial pressure on your husband.”

I couldn’t stand it; I didn’t want to hear any more so I tried to replace the lid, but it wouldn’t go back on. I backed away from the box, but the insults grew louder.
“You are of no use to anyone. No one has a need for you and your broken body.”
I am certain I screamed as I ran from the box. The faster I ran, the louder the voice became.

I raced through my mind trying to find a place to hide, but there was nowhere to go. I kept running until I ended up in a small corner of my heart. I hid there, covered my ears and rocked myself trying to make the noise go away. But the voice kept pounding on me, drilling those ugly words into every pore of my being.

I don’t recall how long I sat in that tiny corner of my heart, but one day, things started to change. I could still hear the ugly screaming voice, but I could also hear a faint whisper.
It was much different than the first voice. This new voice was soft and gentle. I couldn’t hear it well over the other voice. In my frustration I yelled for silence so I could hear this soft voice.

Finally, I could hear the calm voice telling me I was special, made for a purpose.
The ugly voice said the opposite of this kind voice.
This kind and gentle voice said the nicest things. “You are my child,” it told me. “I have a plan for you. There is a work for you to do.” The more I listened the better I could hear the beautiful voice. It soothed me.

Finally one day the voice told me to get up and stop hiding in my heart. “Go put the lid on that box and destroy it,” it said.
I tried to leave, but I couldn’t move. During the time I had hidden in my heart, it had become hard. Trying to move around was nearly impossible.
The calm voice said, “You can’t do this alone, but I can help you, if you will let me.”

After a great deal of struggling, I finally conceded to the voice that I needed help.
I asked the voice to help soften my heart so that I could move around more easily. As my heart softened, I made my way out of the little corner and headed directly for my mind. I was going to close that box once and for all.

As I neared the box, I started becoming afraid again. “I can’t do this,” I thought to myself.
The soft voice started speaking, repeating a phrase over and over again. “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me,” it said.
Then I started repeating it as well; I started believing.
I became stronger by the moment.
Soon I realized that the soft, calm voice was God. He was building me up as I learned to lean on Him, and not rely on my own strength.
Finally, I got the lid back on the box. I realized that the ugly voice was Satan. His voice was now quieted. I could still hear the low grumble of his voice, but the sweet voice of God overpowered his ugliness.

I don’t know for sure if the box was destroyed, but I do know that if the lid ever comes off again, God and God alone will help me conquer it, Philippians 4:13, “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me

I love the box metaphor! A wonderful message too. Nice work. You're a very talented writer. I am usually able to spot areas that need work in a piece right away, but with this one, I'm stumped. The only question that came to mind while I was reading, was why was this person taking an inventory of the things in her mind, but I'm not sure it's all that important to answer that question in this piece. People often sit and think about all kinds of things for no reason at all, especially while laying in bed before falling asleep. I do get the sense that there is a bigger story behind this one though, and it made me curious to know where all of the self abuse was coming from. For example, how did you end up with a "broken body" and unable to work? Perhaps this is a jump start to your memoirs?

Lora

Thank you so much for the critique of my writing.

There is of course a much larger story behind this writing, something I'm trying to get on paper now. It's a hard and emotional thing to do so I'm not progressing with it very quickly.

The hardest part of the entire deal is that the situation that caused me to have a broken body was the doing of someone else. It's been 3 years of letting God ease that in my mind, but I'm getting there.

Thanks Again for your kinds words.
Cynthia

This was an amazing piece! I loved it, a perfect teaser to a powerful testimony, no doubt. Keep'em coming.

I can understand how hard it can be writing about emotional things. Believe me, I've done quite a bit of it myself. May the Lord bless your writing you really do have a wonderful gift.

Thank you, both of you for your kind comments. I do have a few other stories, some are serious, some not so serious. I'll pop a few more of them on here to see what you think of them.

Mind you I don't mind red ink if you find something that needs work, I really appreciate that.

Cynthia