Box of Love

Three years ago today, we lost our home to a fire. Without a home to call our own, our family of five bounced from one hotel to the next, but this was no vacation. In time, we were able to find a furnished house to rent, while our home was being rebuilt.  During the nine and a half months that followed, it was a mad dash to replace the entirety of our home. That included all the items we lost in the fire from bedroom furniture to band-aids and everything in between.

In April of the following year, the reconstruction of our home was finally done. As the furniture was assembled in the various rooms throughout the house and the wool rugs were rolled out across the hardwood floors, it began to feel like this ordeal was finally behind us. It began to feel like we were finally home…once again.

A week or two after we moved in, there was an unexpected knock at our front door, which took longer to register than I’d like to admit. After all, when one's home is condemned, one doesn't get many visitors. A second knock came and then a third. The rapid succession gave a sudden sense of urgency. 

As I opened our front door, I was met by a cluster of older women, each donning a radiant smile. Thrilled by the random social call, we immediately invited them inside. While these sweet women filed into our living room, each expressed their love and concern for our family at the loss of our home, the previous year. The sincerity of their words brought tears to my eyes. All of these women were strangers, minus one whom I met only casually. Yet, their words of comfort made me feel like I was in the presence of dear friends.  

As I wiped away my tears, one of the women came forward, placing a pile of quilts in my arms. She explained that the quilts were handmade by the Ladies Auxiliary in her church. There was a quilt for each member of our family. The tears returned. As I wiped them away, a second time, another woman came forward and presented me with a medium-sized box, decorated with red and pink hearts. After removing the lid from the box, I found a collection of gift cards, greeting cards and even cash. Some of the cards were handmade. Others were store bought. Each included words of inspiration, encouragement, and more importantly, love. The tears returned as I considered the incredible generosity that was shown to our family.  

One week at a time, this brightly colored box was filled by strangers, for strangers. They didn’t know our family or how we felt.

But they did know how to love. I felt that love in the quilts they made, in the box they filled and in the comforting words they offered our family that day. 

It’s been more than two years since that random visit in our living room. While much has happened in that time, much has also stayed the same. For one, the cards still fill that decorative box and their words still fill my heart. That will never change. The quilts still warm my family and their service still warms my heart. That will never change.

In the midst of our tragedy, we learned one of our greatest lessons from this group of strangers, who lovingly reminded us that service does better without barriers. When we remove the barriers we put upon serving others, we are able to meet the news of others, regardless of whether we know them or understand their circumstances.