To the World in a Box: God’s Faithfulness in Death

 So there I was, holding Mom’s journal and weeping because she had written this beautiful desire (and more than written on the pages of a journal, it was written on the tenderness of her heart) to minister to children in poverty. And it broke my heart that such a desire was left unsatisfied.

Years ago, Mom became acquainted with Franklin Graham’s ministry, Samaritan’s Purse, and their annual project, Operation Christmas Child. The idea is simple: Pack a shoebox full of small gifts for a child who might otherwise not experience Christmas. Did you know that with a box no larger than your own two feet, you can provide a child in poverty with tools for basic hygiene, clothing, shoes, academic supplies, toys, a Bible, and even an inflatable soccer ball? Half of these things, for the skilled shoebox packer, can fit inside a water bottle, which also fits inside a shoebox. And even amidst inflation, most of this can be done for as little as $20.

My mom was in – she was all in. Every day of every week of every year, she stalked the deals like a shoebox ninja. Back-to-school sales thrilled her even more than Christmas shopping.

I watched this transition in my mother over many years.

What began as “the shoeboxes,” in time became “the kids.”

What began as “what color toothbrush? Something bright and cheery?” in time became “Toothbrushes don’t take up that much space – what if she has a sister? I’m going to send two toothbrushes.”

What began as dollar-store washcloths on a below-the-federal-poverty-level income in time became carefully hand-knit washcloths made with Heidi’s finest and softest cotton yarn.

Now, Heidi liked shoes and she had a fair stash of them, but she certainly was not a shoe-shopper, as some women tend toward. She was a yarn shopper. It may be, in fact, that the only thing she loved shopping for more than her shoebox kids was yarn. When she went to be with the Lord, she left behind bins full of unworked yarn as proof. A few years back, when Mom was still able to get out and shop with me, we visited a local craft store to do some yarn shopping. When Mom saw their sale on photo boxes, she eagerly began selecting boxes and stacking them in her cart. “For the kids, Sarah,” she told me. “These are just the right size – almost the same as a shoebox!”

And golly, if she wasn’t right.

A little bit wider and shorter, perhaps (but then – so is Santa, right?), but there was no doubt Mom would make them work. She loved that they were a little more sturdy than most shoeboxes (so the kids could keep them and use them for years to come) and that they had a festive holiday print (to always remind the kids of the joy of Christmas) and that they were all the same size (so they would stack nicely on her shelf and she could stock up while they were on sale and use them for years to come – which she absolutely did).

As Hubby and I cleaned through Mom’s bedroom, the last thing we touched was Mom’s bookshelf – her journals, her composition notebooks (that’s another story for another time – we probably need coffee to do that one, but it’s worth noting that a composition notebook can fit inside a shoebox), her CDs, a handful of books from Dietrich Bonhoeffer and Michael Card and Martin Luther, and – you got it – a stack of photo boxes.

I had been eyeballing the photo boxes during the whole “cleaning Mom’s room” process and had already talked with Hubby about the secret stash of shoebox supplies Mom kept in a bin downstairs. Little Lady is the perfect age to learn about packing a shoebox this year, and we thought – what better way to start than by honoring Mom’s legacy and filling those photo boxes from her shelf with her stash of pencils and erasers and crayons?

But there I was, friends…reading her purple fruit of the Spirit journal from Grandma Moore and just grieving. Grieving in a way I hadn’t until that moment. Grieving at the loss in this world of such a beautiful woman. Grieving at the loss of such a tender heart that longed to love people as Jesus loved people. Grieving at the death of my mother. Grieving at the death of my hero in faith. Grieving that she never made it to El Salvador.

Somehow, I found the strength to dry my tears and set aside the journal to continue working on Mom’s bookshelf. I reached for the stack of photo boxes and was surprised by the weight.

I rather stupidly thought, “I wonder what Mom had in those boxes?”

Friends, I consider myself to be of average intelligence, but I have had some incredible moments in life of being exceptionally slow-to-the-punch. My siblings will tell you. Like the time I found out they made microwavable cheddar popcorn? Or when I asked what time the ball drops on New Year’s Eve? Yeah. This was a ball drop, “in the microwave?” kind of stupid. You know it’s true – and it’s okay to laugh. I’m laughing. You know what was in the boxes. I don’t have to tell you.

They were packed. Packed and ready.

And it flooded me – the realization that God didn’t need to send my mom to El Salvador on a plane; He sent her all over the world in hundreds of shoeboxes.

This Autumn, I invite you.

Come with me – in a shoebox – to El Salvador. Celebrate with me God’s incredible faithfulness in my mother’s life as a declaration of His incredible faithfulness also to you and me. And just like Momma Heidi, you and I can speak God’s faithfulness to children in poverty simply by loving them and providing for some of their basic needs.

Pack a shoebox. Or a photo box. Or an official Operation Christmas Child box. Or a plastic shoebox-sized bin with a lid.

Dollar store items are perfectly acceptable.

And if you’re local and want to have a shoe box packing shindig – come on. We’ve got extra photo boxes. We’ve got extra pencils. We’ve got a stash of Momma-knit washcloths.

Who’s with me?

Who wants to go to El Salvador in a shoebox?

God’s faithfulness doesn’t always look the way we expect, does it?

Yet it is always good. Really good. And though I was overwhelmed to realize that God used Operation Christmas Child to take Mom to El Salvador, this was just the start of God opening my eyes to His faithfulness to Mom’s desire.

Samaritan’s Purse does ask for a $10 donation to process and ship each box, but through the end of October, Hubby and I will sponsor blog and newsletter subscribers for one box – we will cover the $10 donation for you to pack a box. Just send me an email and let me know you’re packing a box. If possible, I’d love a photo of your box before you drop it off at one of the drop-off locations. sarah@sarahelizabethmoore.org

Not a subscriber? Click one of the “subscribe” buttons or send me an email. We’ll get ya covered.

From my heart to yours,