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Friday, November 14, 2014

Blue Box Years

the blue box years

Since I was little, I have had this idea of exactly who I would be when I grew up.

I had this plan, a grand scheme of exactly the steps I would take. Exactly what my path would look like and exactly what every detail of my life would entail.

When I was little, Lizzie and I used to stay up late clipping photos from magazines, talking about what our future jobs would be like, what we would wear, what we would say as "grown-ups." Whatever made the list, was cut and put in a blue box. Sometimes we would write things on paper. Sometimes we would cut things out of magazines, or ask for permission to use the printer. (This was when we had a huge desktop and a very limited 30 minutes of use a day.)

That blue box represented a very predicatable, safe future. There was no wonder, no curiousity past the box. I simply assumed that once I was an adult, change would end. Making life-altering decisions ends once you're an adult, I thought. No school, no more lunch boxes, playgrounds, mom won't buy me my back-to-school clothes. No more picture days. That blue box repsented "still" years. My years. Everything would be exactly the way it looked in those magazine photos.

As I got older, and the box was lost in a move, I found myself missing what I thought was predictable. Everything I wanted and would have had been picked for me, by me.

When I moved out, I realized my first home wasn't the one I had clipped out of Beautiful Homes magazine. My outfit was not off the runway clipping from Vogue. My words would sometimes hurt people, hurt me, hurt strangers. They would not be the words I wrote down specifically on a paper, and placed carefully in the blue box. My first loves, my first friends, would not be the people I had picked from Seventeen magazine.

There would be heartache, letdowns, trials, and change. Nothing would be exactly how I had pictured it.

Instead, everything would be better.

The first home held memories the blue box never could. The outfits for job interviews and first days were the result of late-night closet raiding, laughing with my sister while we both tried to find the perfect outfit. My words, my way of jotting things down on paper would become my compass. My path would be paved by just how honestly I allowed myself to be. My first loves, my first friends would be people that shaped me, molded me, guided me. They would all measure out to be so much more than a one-dimensional photo clipping.


I guess we plan for things our whole life, and we search for what will be perfect. And in that time of planning and searching, life takes place. And while we all have had a blue box filled with exactly what we wanted, our life has a way of taking pieces of exactly what we need.

The blue box was a time of innocence. It was a time to prepare the steps, so I didn't have to worry what it would be like to ever be lost. The blue box was a time to tell myself, if you carefully build a future, no one could ever come near it to break it down.

Planning a life isn't living one.

 I have learned that while we are busy planning, life unfolds in ways we could never plan for. I have learned that the moments of my life that would have never been picked for the blue box were the most pivotal. The most sacred. What didn't make the blue box is called life, and I am so blessed to be living it.

Happy Friday everyone, xoxo.

6 comments:

  1. My brother and I had our own version of this when we were boys. We would play with our toy cars in the backyard, and drive them around elaborate constructions we made by excavating, moving, and molding the dirt.

    We would build houses, neighborhoods, towns, and cities, then spend the day recounting the adventures and experiences we would encounter as we lead our lives in these sprawling earthen metropolises. We so clearly defined the men we would become. We defined the men we would be by their talents, skills, appearances, and belongings.

    Today, I have very little in common with the man I dreamed I would be, sitting there in the dirt. But still, I am proud of both what I could dream as a boy, and the man I have become shaped by those (often misguided) dreams. I suppose that is the nature of growing up.

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    1. I think as kids it's something we all do, plan for these big, extravagant futures. You are so wise, Steve. "But still, I am proud of both what I could dreams as a boy, and the man I have become shaped by those (often misguided) dreams." It's such a blessing to be able to see how both stages of our life have shaped us, and to appreciate them as what they were/are. Thanks for sharing! Wishing you an awesome week!

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  2. I love your writing! Looking at past posts as well, this is such a lovely and refreshing blog.

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    1. Hi Taylor! Thanks for stopping by. And thank you for the sweet words! I will definitely be stopping by your blog! xo

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  3. "And in that time of planning and searching, life takes place." Yep, it's hard to remember that the mundane every day is just as much life as the days we're looking forward to and waiting for. Beautiful post as always. :)

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    1. Thank you, Kacie! You are always so sweet. It's important to treasure our lives. Wishing you a great week. xo

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