We spent half an hour at the storage place this morning. Just long enough to see how much lies ahead (33 boxes) and to look specifically for the scrapbook I had given to Jolene for Christmas a few years ago.
We feared Jolene had torn up the scrapbook in a fit of rage (because the packers had not found it in packing). So … God’s perfect timing … the scrapbook was in the last box we opened as our 30 minutes came to an end. Amen! Hallelujah!
But we found so many other things we feared were lost. That I have mourned in this blog.
Yes, we found several of the porcelain dolls! Including “Natty Gann,” the one I most wanted. That’s when I came the closest to crying.
Her artwork? Removed from the walls, yes … but carefully wrapped and put away. We found an entire box of folders full of sketches and drawings. Much more than I guessed she had saved.
Also journals, poems, undiscovered writings, a scrapbook with certificates of her accomplishments.
All in all—a record of a life of promise, a life in progress, a life lived to the full.
Part of me celebrates.
Part of me cries.