Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: PRESENT (07/16/20)
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TITLE: The Steamer Trunk | Previous Challenge Entry
By Janet Richey
07/22/20 -
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Gingerly, I lift the lid, and quickly realize that I have just stumbled upon a time capsule. I spy photos, letters and personal mementos dating back to the late 1800s. Ignoring the sweat dripping into my eyes, I put all of its contents into a cheap plastic container, and began dreaming of all the questions it would answer.
I spent the next few months pouring over mold-infested papers, trying to complete a story with few names, places, or dates to work with. Inexplicably, my living relatives didn't want to talk about the past, and my father only wanted to recall his glory days.
Dad lost his hearing at infancy, and was raised by devoted hearing parents. He was trained first, as a farmer, and then, with the loving support of the deaf community, became a preacher. Dad had an uncanny gift for explaining the gospel to his people, leaving them hungry for more. Meanwhile, his family had to wait in line for his attention. I was the youngest of three, and an unplanned pregnancy. My arrival came when Dad was launching his ministry, and no one was ready for a baby. I always sensed this painful lack of belonging, and worse, that I was a burden.
But then there was Grandma; Dad’s Annie Sullivan, and the closest thing I had to a hearing parent. She was the one adult who I could talk to without the hinderance of sign-language that I was still learning, and patiently listened to my endless chatter. It wasn’t until I had kids of my own that I fully understood what she’d given me.
I eventually became frustrated with the constant dead ends of my steamer trunk project. “What are you looking for, Janet”? The familiar voice followed me around, repeating the question, until, in a rare act of obedience, I hastily sorted the photos into labeled, archival-safe containers, and put them out of view in the corner of my writing room.
It wasn’t until my father passed away a year later, that I was ready to answer that question with brutal honesty. I was a needy, left-handed, cross-eyed kid that struggled with social graces. In those faces and newspaper articles, I was looking for love and a family connection. And, because I was eventually blessed with a loving husband and children of my own, I was looking for validation.
A seismic shift happened when I re-opened those carefully labeled containers with the attitude of a historian instead of a wounded child. I took those old photos and painstakingly matched them with the present-day landscape. It took our family on countless miles of Pennsylvania backroads in search of old churches, cemeteries and even abandoned railroad tunnels. Our adventures became more frequent, and took on another dimension, when COVID-19 essentially shut our state down. It was a safe way to exercise our freedom, and break out of the house when the walls started closing in. Best of all, this project generated some unforgettable conversations that you can only have when you're stuffed inside of a vehicle.
“And though the Lord give you the bread of adversity and the water of affliction, yet your Teacher will not hide himself anymore, but your eyes shall see your Teacher. 21 And your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, “This is the way, walk in it,” when you turn to the right or when you turn to the left.” Isaiah 30:20-21.
My adversity and affliction were nothing compared to what He had in store for me as an adult. That old musty steamer trunk was a present from the past that couldn’t show its worth until I slowed down long enough to listen to that persistent voice. My Teacher took the remnants from a distant past, and gave it life. That’s what obedience can do.
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