Photo by jimmy brown
By Tina Teng-Henson
Boxes of files neatly line the shelves and the center section of our garage. Some are filled with manila envelopes, each containing mementos, clippings, photos, and important documents from every chapter of my life. High school, college, every job I’ve ever had. Other boxes date back farther, containing letters from penpals in elementary, middle, and high school. What else? Journals filled with my signature chicken-scratch. Agenda books reminding me that even as a young person, I thrived on structure and schedules. Photos, albums, prints, even negatives (remember those?). Ticket stubs from when John and I were dating, wedding planning documents, and invitations to our 3 receptions. School yearbooks, all the photos from my Sweet 16 (both the good ones and all the awkward candids)…so much more.
When I think about these boxes sitting in the garage, I tend to feel some level of irritation with myself (and perhaps my parents) for holding on to so much stuff over so many years. At some point, when they moved out of our childhood home growing up, they shipped me all my belongings so I could deal with them. These were, after all, the artifacts of my life.
Seeing these boxes makes my inner critic come alive. Why can’t you just let go of all this stuff? Why didn’t you all clean your house regularly, and throw away unnecessary papers? Why do you feel the need to hold onto your college English books? Your psychology textbooks? Why can’t you just go through the boxes and discard everything except that which is most significant, truly meaningful, and actually worth keeping? Goodness knows, with 3 kids under 5, you need the extra space to deal with all the clutter of their lives!
My inner critic is not a very kind person. Imagine the pummelling upon my sweet soul. Such accusation and critique…ouch! Wow.
This weekend, we had the rare gift of two consecutive days of rest with very little on our social calendar. And in a special season where I am not working in any official capacity. Two friends generously offered to watch our kids so John and I could ‘get stuff done.’ With a determined brow, I sat down in my old rocking chair to start going thru the first of many boxes with a big empty ‘discard’ box beside me, ready to be filled up and cast off.
An hour and a half later — that box was still basically empty — but my heart was full. I opened maybe 5 of those manila envelopes — but was flooded by what their contents contained…each of those envelopes just a fraction, a sliver, the smallest slice of the incredibly rich life I have lived these past 36 years. College acceptance letters, journal entries from the night before and after John and I started dating, type-written alumni correspondence to an area director who had long since moved on. Photos of college blockmates glued to a faded green construction paper tree, valentines, magazine articles. Original artwork created by a good friend in print in an undergraduate literary magazine.
So many of the papers I rifled my hands through, I know I held onto back then — and will continue to hold onto today — with the thought: “maybe someday I can use this for a sermon illustration!” I know. I’m just that weird 🙂 But given that I may be on the cusp of receiving my first-ever call to be a teaching elder/pastor of a church, I am so very grateful for the depths of beauty contained within these boxes. I have already lived such an incredible life, but in this season where motherhood to three young children has rewired my brain circuitry such that I can’t retrieve or recall most of what preceded them — these boxes are a gift to me. These boxes, which my inner critic would berate me for holding onto, are the ongoing gift awaiting me in our garage — a reminder of who I still am — anytime I have opportunity to look inside. As long as I keep them — I will have a concrete way of tangibly remembering who I have been, where I have walked, when I have noticed God at work around me. I can go back and look thru these artifacts of my life and remember, savor, recall, mourn, and be glad. I can marvel, wonder, and thank God for giving me each of these particular experiences so many years ago, so that today and tomorrow, I might be differently equipped for the new work he is calling me to do. I’ve always feared I would not have enough to draw from for the work I’ve been called to do… but that’s ridiculous. There is a super-abundance here, already, to draw from — there always has been. And there always will be.
And not only so — but I realize not only do I have this one little life that I have lived — I have the fullness of the incredible Biblical text — its depths of polyvalent brilliance — story after story, verse after verse — history, import, interpretation — then, now, and everything in between. I cannot wait to delve in — I feel so hungry to do so after being with young children and community-organizing three churches. I’ve been saying, over and over, this might be the first scripture-facing role I’ve ever considered. I cannot wait! I have been waiting for this! Working towards this… for over a decade. Perhaps almost two.
So, I commend to you, dear friend, the joy of going back and remembering your life. Taking the time to sift, sweetly, the artifacts of your life. Slow down for a moment — to attend to your past. Give thanks for the richness of the life you have lived. Doing so may create heart space for the richness of the lives of each of the people around you. We have each been given so many treasures. They are there, within us, hidden yet profound. In truth, you are yourself one great treasure. May you notice that, and see the beauty of all that there is within.
Tina Teng-Henson has been blessed to learn + grow alongside so many different people, in so many places: Long Island, NY — Harvard College + the South End of Boston — Nairobi, Kenya and Lanzhou, China. Tina, her husband, and their three children live in northern California.
By Liz Chang
