Unpacking Everything

I've lived my life with carefully packed boxes. Everything has always been neatly tucked away and organized, conveniently placed in a strategic way, easy to pick up and run again when things become too much to handle. Everybody has baggage, and I learned after many attempts to unpack in the wrong places that it is safest just to keep the zippers locked tight and the tape untampered with. I concluded that people don't really care about the things I've hidden- they prefer them packed away because then life can look neater.

But now you're asking me to unpack and you're reminding me that real life is messy. You are transforming my ideology that opened boxes are disturbing and unwelcome. "You are home," You tell me, "It's time to unpack." And so I started unpacking.

I took out my depression; I took out my razor blades. I took out my past hurts and broken relationships. I took out my poetry and I took out my comfort blanket called selfishness. I unpacked what I called garbage, thinking you might see it and decide instead to leave my luggage alone... but you're bigger than that, I realize now.

You began to dust off my selfishness and turned it into honest self-assessment. You took my scars and, once dusted off, turned them into arms that hug. You dusted off my depression and gave me passion for the broken. You took my broken relationships and replaced them with the ability to forgive. Everything ugly that I unpacked, you called beautiful and redeemed...

But I still have a box left unopened.

Now we are staring at the box labeled "for the future." And you're asking me to show you what's  inside. You already know though... Germany, money, a nice house, financial stability, marriage, family, graduation with honors... El Camino and California. These have been my dreams for so long. These are already good things, right? I'm not sure if I want to risk you dusting those off too because everytime you've dusted things off, you've changed them. My dreams are safe from change in their box.

But I said I didn't want to just settle for good. I said I didn't want safe and comfortable. I said I was willing to let you change my future. Was that just lip service?

Why is it so easy for me to let you redeem my past but I won't let you touch my future? Why do I want you to interfere with the now, but I won't let you give me your plans for tomorrow?

I guess I've never fully unpacked before... and this is hard because I like things neat and organized... I've grown to like my boxes with their tape and "for my eyes only" signs. I've grown to like my plans and my ideas of what tomorrow should look like. Can you change that though? I want to unpack everything for you. I want to be home to stay this time. Change my heart so I can give up this box too.