The Locked Box
There is a story about a box of secrets.
We hold this box deep within
No one can see, hear,
or know about its existence.
No one should know.
We hide this box.
It is deeply buried within.
Sometimes things come out.
In ways we don’t expect.
These are the stories of
THE LOCKED BOX.
The Locked Box Chronicles
Observations from an Abandoned Egg
Part I I am Invisible.
I am invisible, unnoticed, compliant, and well-mannered in closed settings. I am the one who has food, shelter, and seems taken care of. However, I feel abandoned. Alone, and long for someone to let me know that they love me.
I do the right things. I follow the rules. I do what is expected. Then I become moody despondent, depressed, and eventually bulimic. I throw up and can’t keep anything down. I try to satisfy the hurt within. I want to be noticed. I have looked for relationships to make me happy. I have been a people pleaser. I have had imagination thinking. Nothing worked. I still felt abandoned.
Everyone has issues. I try to help peop with their issues. However, I am lost. I gravitate towards those who have never learned how to love and to give back. I don’t know why! I turn inward. I went to evening class. I was given an egg and was told to make it “Little me.”
Part 2-Sad Reality. I got home, unloaded my books, relaxed, and forgot about “little me.” I did my homework, went to work, and did not think about the egg until the night of class. Then others were talking about their eggs and I realized in the scale of things, I don’t give myself much thought. I decided to do a scrambled egg hunt that night. It was to no avail. No egg anywhere. Hmm…what should I do? Well, I decided to reinvent myself. I found another egg and called her Katie, after Katie in my Toxic Love story.
Part 3-Observations From an Abandoned Egg Part 3 (the hatchling)
Hello. My name is Katie. I tell you this because I am not someone you would notice. In a line up, I probably look like other eggs. I am not unusual, unique, or have spikes on my features. I have been given nourishment, shelter, food, water, sun, and shade when it is too warm. I guess I came from my mother, a chicken. I don’t know. Never met her. I think I remember her warmth and love. I am protected from falling. I am a good egg. Sometimes I draw attention to myself and tell jokes so other eggs will crack up. I am compliant. I am responsible. Not sure when I will hatch. Or, if I will hatch.
When I was taken for this observation, I did not know what I was doing. I was put in a basket with the other eggs. Kathy picked me out from among the rest of the eggs. She wanted me! Kathy took me home and gave me a warm woolen sock so I would not be cold. She drew a pencil face on me. I was surprised I would be picked out from the crowd. I was different. Kathy said that I was special. She drew pretty eyes on me. Eyebrows. A nose. A mouth. And hair. She told me everything was going to be alright. Then she put me back in my warm gray sock and into my white cup. Kathy left the room and my feature started fading. Kathy came back int the room, gave me a hug, and I went back to sleep.
The next day, Kathy woke up, gave me a hug, and made herself a cup of black tea. She laid down in bed as I was in my fuzzy sock. My features had faded. My eyes and mouth had faded. Kathy gave me a hug. She drank her black tea. She heard noises on the front porch swing that did not sound familiar. Something broke! Two children were sitting on the porch swing and having a conversation. Kathy opened the front door and they left and caught the bus. Not sure what broke.
Kathy walked inside and told me about it. Kathy walked “Snuzy,” her border collie, and came home. As she was gone, I could tell I was not the only one who felt abandoned. Kathy was talking to an egg.
Part 4 observations from an Abandoned Egg
Of course, I was. I was not just any egg. I was the hatchling that was chosen by Kathy. I was supposed to help her learn what was missing in her life. She did not call me “little Kathy.” She called me “Katie” and made me pretty. I was not broken I did not have any cracks or bruises. I had not had to come to work black and blue. That had been Kathy’s experience. No, I was safe and protected. I was in my gray woolen sock in my pretty white cup. I was the one to hold, to talk to, to encourage, to say, “atagirl.”
I can relate to Kathy. She has tried to be compliant. To be like the other eggs. To look the same. Act the same. Follow the rules. Stay in the carton so you don’t get broken or hatched. The problem is that the longer you stay in the lineup the less you get noticed.
Kathy thought if she just followed the rules, stayed in the guidelines, loved enough, someone would love her back. What Kathy did know was that she had to see that she was a person worth loving. Whether others saw it or not. Kathy had to know this. She did not have to look any further than what was already within her.
I stayed in my fuzzy woolen gray sock in my white cup as Kathy was working. She was stressed out as usual. I saw the rocks that surrounded her desks. On each rock was the name of each person, or experience that had beaten Kathy up or abused her. Kathy has been carrying these burdens in her heart for years.
In her Thursday night class she was told to find rocks and put the names of the people that have hurt her (or the memories). Kathy can’t let those hurts go. So here I am surrounded by rocks. Each rock bears scars, hurt, pain, and trouble.
I looked at the angels that Kathy’s mom bought. The porcelain figures form an angel band. I look at them everyday and wish they could play a hymn for Kathy.
A hymn of hope to help with the pain.
Part 5-Kathy says to Katie Another night of wine and chocolate. Another night to try to forget the hurts of the past. The in-laws that betrayed me.
The ex that used religion and money like a Pharisee but never knew God. The friends that betrayed me where I could never feel safe again. The fear of coming home from work because I did not know what would happen to me. Feeling unloved. Abandoned. I started drawing a sad face on Katie. I gave her thicker eyebrows. She looked so sad. I gave Katie a hug and a felt a strange sensation. I felt comforted. I did not feel sad anymore. I had her.
Part 6 This is Katie again. I’m starting to love Kathy. As much as an egg can like or love anyone. Kathy holds me and gives me encouragement. I notice that she works a lot. She seems sad. Kathy is tired but tries to remain positive on the phone with her clients. I watch her and smile reassuringly.
Kathy walks into the front room and sat alone on the couch. Her husband, Roger, is in his chair, where he spends every evening, looking at his computer. Kathy is lonely and sad. Her husband starts talking to the dog and looks at his computer. Kathy mentions about a meal. Her husband says, I don’t want much, and goes back to looking at his computer watching something on Utube.
Kathy spends a lot of time alone. Kathy works on the budget. Making sure bills get paid. Can’t be late! Hearing dad’s voice in her head telling her that she will fail. Kathy still tries.
The pencil marks have faded from my face. All I have is a glistening smile in my eyes. I have a soft look to my mouth. I am grateful, that me, Katie, the egg, is not abandoned. Kathy remembered me and made sure that I was alright.
Kathy is stressed today. Kathy gives me hugs and says, “We’re ok, right.”
“We are going to be ok.” I smile with my pencilled smile. I say goodnight. Kathy holds me close to her face. I am in my warm woolen sock but I am still cold.
I am not abandoned.
Part 7 This is Kathy It seems strange. I feel a sense of nurturing towards this egg. She has literally become little me. I hold her close to my heart and comfort her. Katie smiles with her pencilled smile.
I hold Katie close to my heart as I sleep. I make sure that she is not broken or hurt. I never want to get broken or hurt again. Goodnight little Katie. Sleep well.
Part 7-This is Kathy It seems strange. I feel a strange sense of nurturing towards this egg. She has literally become “little me.” I hold her close to my heart and try to comfort her. She smiles with her pencilled smile. I have Katie in her woolen sock , close to my heart, as I sleep. I make sure that she is not broken or hurt. Goodnight little Katie. Rest well.
Observations from An Abandoned Egg
I went to group to tell my story. I brought the egg that rolled out from under the bed. That was the Kathy egg. She was in a guitar case with flat picks. The Kathy egg was really cracked and broken. I brought the Katie egg that was beautiful and was in her special fuzzy sock. They were both in a white Easter basket.
I told the story of how the Kathy egg rolled out under the bed. I thought I would never see her again. The Katie egg was the one I nurtured. One of the leaders said to me that Katie was how I wished I would be treated. That was right. To be love, nurtured, cared about, loved, hugged, noticed, and valued. Most of all, not abandoned. The best feeling of all.
Observations from An Abandoned Egg
Part 8 From Katie, the egg
I got quite an earful today. That is, if I had ears. I was told Kathy had to sign a verbal warning at work. Kathy said it was hard to work because she started crying after signing the form. After 16 years she might lose hurt job. Stress, tension, medication, tears, throwing up, sleepless nights, and years of therapy have accompanied this job. Yet, Kathy stayed. So afraid to reinvent herself. To recreate herself. Kathy lives in fear because she needs to work. She needs to work. Kathy is a caregiver to the man she loves. For the first time in years, Kathy cries. She can’t hold it in anymore. Her husband can’t work.
Part 9-This is Kathy-My love is the most brilliant man I have ever met. My Ernest Hemingway. My darling. A man that could build build boats from scratch and tell the most amazing stories. I treasure the moments spent on the houseboat together and watching the manatees. Talking about life and music. Me playing the guitar as the kayaks went by.
Now I see your vibrancy has changed as you have trouble walking. The neuropathy has caused you so much pain and you can’t work anymore. I have to do everything. I have gotten frustrated. Then I get mad at myself for getting frustrated. I want to be taken care of too. I want to be loved and care for. I felt loved and cared for on the houseboat. That was so long ago. When you were healthy. Now I am sad, depressed, and sick all the time. Wanting attention. Feeling needy. We used to talk. Now we have nothing in common. My darling is not emotional . I am very emotional lately. I need love, support, and confirmation. We are two different sides of a coin.
Funny. I found the original egg. It suddenly rolled out from under the bed. It is the original “ Little Me” It is cracked. Battered. Not as pretty as it once was. However, one thing you can say for that egg. It’s still standing. It may be leaking, it may be drained, but it’s still worth it’s salt! One else you can say for that egg, it’s gone through a lot. I pray my story will help someone else. Cuz once I get through this desert struggle, look out! There will be no stopping me. I was told in class that Katie was how I wanted to be treated by others. Kathy, the egg, was me now.
I made the mistake of working past my time. My husband came in and reminded me of the time. Roger drove me to my appointment in Yulee, Florida. It was a good thing because I was going to break down. My darling sat beside me me as I got my test results. I was scheduled for surgery for Monday. My husband decided to do something very kind.
He suggested taking me to my favorite restaurant in Fernandina, The Salty Pelican. We were able to hold hands and look at the boats, have a glass of wine, a fish dinner, and talk. It was magical for me. It was so nice to be together without the stress, the job, and everyday crisis. To calm down. To listen to music. To be together like the old times.
That evening, we sat on the couch together and we watched a movie about Dublin. My darling said, after this is over I want to tell you some things about Dublin. I remember when we met he would talk to me about European history. Talking about history was one of the things that attracted me to him. My darling put his arm around me and I leaned over on his shoulder.
I am not abandoned. I have Roger. I may not have my children anymore. However, Roger told me when we married I have a new family. Two step sons. Two daughters in love. Grandchildren. I have my faith. My friends. My music and my stories.
No matter what happens, this egg will cry but she will dry her tears. Then she will grow her victory garden and write a story about it.
The Sad Floral Bush
Once Upon a Time there was a philodendron plant in a floral shop. The florist that sold the greenery did not know it was magic. The florist thought It looked ordinary and did not understand it’s worth.
A wholesaler bought it. At the wholesaler shop was a part-timer who did not understand the value of what she was working with. Because she did not see the greenery’s value, the beautiful plant did not see what it was meant to become. It had grown up believing what it was told. You are ordinary. You are not pretty. You have little value. Philly, the philodendron plant was grateful that she got water and sunlight every now and then.
Parts of the greenery were put together in a haphazard manner. No love or care. The greenery was pulled at the plant stems and stuck into styrofoam. The workers at the shop talked among themselves. No no talked to Philly. The greenery felt dizzy and confused. Then moss was stuck to the bottom of the greenery with more styrofoam. The magical greenery turned artificial and lost a part of its leaves. It was placed in a stand for all to see and the cashier put a price tag on it. It looks like a green bush on a stand and no one wanted it.
The bush was brought to a thrift store at a reduced price. I saw it. There was something special and sad about this bush on a stand. I had been renovating my home and had an idea where it might go. There were philodendron leaves and other greenery on the potted bush. However, it looked so sad for a plant. I noticed the price was very low for such an expensive looking plant and I was surprised. I decided to buy it. My plant lost a leaf going out the door. I had never seen such a sad plant. I wondered what grieved it so?
I brought it home and put my new plant in a special spot. My piano would be on the left. My blue-gray wicker chair would be on the right and my new prize plant would be in the center! For the first time, Philly smiled. She seemed content. I second guessed myself whether I made the right decision where I had placed my potted plant. I wondered if my new plant was too large in the bed room.
The next day, I put her in the laundry room. She seemed sad again. She lost her leaf. She sat there all alone in the dark and seemed out of place. For some reason I felt guilty.
My husband said, I liked the plant in the bedroom . No one will notice such a beautiful plant in the laundry room. I was surprised. My husband normally does not notice things like that.
I smiled and understood. My plant needed to be love and noticed all along. To be valued, For us to see the magic that Philly was capable of. No one else could see the beauty. I took my new philodendron plant to my room. I placed her next to the piano and the wicker chair. My plant had found it’s happy place and a new home. The bush transformed, by magic and wonder, to the beautiful greenery that it was always meant to be.
The Desert. (For Victory Story Blog)
Man does not live by bread alone. What does that phrase mean anyway? Toasted wheat, Barley? Rye? Sourdough? Could it just be referring to what we see on the supermarket shelf? Maybe it’s more. Maybe it goes back a long time ago when we had to trust in God for our daily bread. Our manna.
I have never had to understand this concept until now. To trust God that he would give me what I needed for each day. I don’t know what the future will bring. I wander in the hot scorching desert. Praying for relief for now. Today. I pray tomorrow will be better. Today I am out in the desert. I dream of finding my oasis. A tropical paradise. Rest and relief. Comfort. Peace. Today, I just pray for water and manna. That sweet taste to satisfy the longing of my heart. The water that Jesus told the woman at the well, if you drink from this water you will never thirst again. A spring of living water. The bread of life that not just fills an empty stomach but makes you whole and peaceful. Sometimes it takes a desert experience to help us to realize who is our true source of strength and who will meet our needs.
Your word, our daily bread. I need to trust in you. I need to hold your hand. From the Old Testament to the new
It is quoted, “Man does not live by bread alone but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God.
At the time of trouble, he shall set me upon a rock. In the secret of his tabernacle will he hide me. Then shall my head be lifted up above my enemies. I will sing, yea. I will sing unto the Lord.
I will sing and make a way in the desert. I will trust that God will make a way. Till Jesus shows me the way out.
