Box of Treasures

My husband calls me a hoarder.... I am over it.  I like to keep things; not empty wine bottles or dirty diapers or anything of that sort.  There is no need to check your local  listings, I will not be on A&E anytime soon but I do have stuff.  He refuses to accept that he does too but we are different in that his "stuff" stays packed away in the attic.  He does not care to look at it, read any of it or acknowledge or honor it in any way.  I mean c'mon, who wouldn't want to frame their award for "Most Likely to Get A Date to Anything".  Yes, it did at one time exist within the KA Order (aka fraternity) and my beloved won it one semester.  I am so proud.
Anyway back to me:   I think wanting to keep your stuff hidden is a bigger issue than wanting to be surrounded with things you love.....just sayin'

We have decided to rent our house out sometimes as a way to make some extra cash.  Austin has some high profile events and we live downtown so it is kinda a no brainer.  In the spirit of full disclosure I have to admit that secretly I pray these helps me to be able to stop working some day.  Every dollar helps.....  To prepare for the guests that will eventually enjoy our beautiful home I am clearing some things out.  We will have to remove most personal belongings so if I do not clean things out now ALL of my treasures would be exposed in that cleaning exercise so I am getting a head start.  I am also saving myself the headache and frustration of hearing my hubby take deep sighs and keep repeating, "Really Wendy?" when he makes another load to help me pack.

Last night I found a plastic storage bag filled with letters and cards.  My heart stopped for a second and I was transported back to a time in 2010 when I was one my extended hospital bed rest.  I was not able to fully sit up and so my reach was very limited.  I placed the cards and letters I received from friends and family in a storage bag and kept them tucked in the side of the bed.  When I needed some encouragement the loving words so many of you wrote me were easily within my reach.  

You know the end of the story, Baby B was born, I was released and the healing and journey of life began for the Fosters.  I was not sitting up yet when I was discharged.  My back could literally not support the weight of my head providing further proof that I have a huge brain.  Needless to say I did not carry any bags in the door and really did not care where anything ended up at that point.  I forgot about the bag until I discovered it last night.  I was so happy to find that treasure and rediscover the precious memory of my time on bed rest.  I am sure you think I am crazy but being chosen to go through that journey provided me with much reflection and feel a sense of calling. 

I sat down and read every single card and letter.  Every line, every word.  Then I smiled.  I am loved.  I transferred the storage bag filled with love to a memory box (one of many) for safe keeping.  Some things do not change; I want to keep those within my reach.