The old Briefcase unfolds

Under our bed, is a big, retro, leather briefcase.   It is passed it’s season of fashion and trend, well worn and has a story to tell.  So if you see it, please don’t laugh!  It was my Papa’s.  I’m proud it is mine.  Today, it contains fascinating things that can steal an hour out of your day, for the reading.  It has old art work from the very first time I discovered I could copy pictures to some resemblance of the original; letters Tim and I wrote to each other before the days when courtships were carried out by text; old class photos; a piece of twilling from primary school that won me an art prize; letters from my parents and grandparents during the time they were so jittery about me getting married “so young”; some random birthday cards; a diary that I kept when I became a Christian; and a motley collection of a few poems I wrote long ago.  These were what I went looking for.  And some of these I have put on my new “mainly poetry” blog Through the Lettuce!

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About deerfeet

I am a home-educating mother of four children. We live on a small holding in Wales and my husband is active in local politics and the lead pastor of our church, Festival Church.
This entry was posted in Creative Communication, Poetry, Writing and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to The old Briefcase unfolds

  1. We had a parallel experience when we announced our intention to get married (we were twenty and twenty-one on the wedding day). Many friends found it very difficult to understand the idea of making such a strong statement of intent so early in life. Several people even said to me in tones of complete perplexity, “can’t you just live together?”. Well, no. We didn’t want to. We wanted to get married. I remember pointing out to several people that a generation ago, getting married at twenty was perfectly normal (my own parents were twenty and twenty-one when they got married and nobody turned a hair).
    Since then, we have watched several friends who married later in life (often after many years of cohabitation) go through divorce, infidelity, ill-advised pregnancies and all sorts of other traumas. We are still together, after eleven years of marriage, and although it has not been a smooth ride by any means, we are still together and our bond is stronger than ever. We watch our friends with sadness and horror. We are so blessed that we have a union that is strong enough to understand and deal with our own problems, and for us this came from the early years of our marriage. It was an incredibly precious time, when we learned so much about each other, what it is that sustains a long-term relationship, and what it is realistic to expect from someone who you intend to spend your whole life with. It seems to me that everyone is ready to make a lifelong commitment at different times, depending on who they are, and who they are with. I was lucky enough to meet the person I wanted to be with forever when I was eighteen years old, and we were both sure straight away that what we had was enough, and was always going to be enough. We were ready at twenty because that was how old we were when we met the right person; some people meet the right person at thirty, forty, fifty or sixty; and some people will never meet that person, and so will never really be ready.
    It’s wonderful that your relationship with your parents was strong enough that they felt able to express their concerns to you in a supportive way. It reminded me very strongly of how supportive and happy our parents were for us, and how annoyed I felt that the people who *did* express concern did so from a position of ignorance about who we were and what the nature of the commitment we were about to make meant for us.

  2. deerfeet says:

    I think today’s culture has lost a sense of how important whole hearted commitment is, but I’m glad you found the validity of it and still stand in testimony to singleness of devotion.

    I find those letters very interesting to read now, especially as a parent. But with the journey of life so told and circumstances as they’ve been, I think it a wonderful thing that Papa got to meet two of his grandchildren.

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