Excavation of Creative Layers

For the past several days I've been going through old boxes and files, some of which I haven't opened in years. I am fairly certain that some of the things I'm going through I haven't looked at since we moved to this area almost eleven years ago. Other files I stuffed into cabinets and crates during the seminary years (as we now refer to them fondly).

Finding so many of my old papers has been eye-opening. By papers, I mean all sorts of things: papers I wrote during seminary, articles I clipped from newspapers or printed copies of from online sources, rough drafts of poems and short stories (some I spent long hours on and never went back to), notes and cards from friends, journals, favorite quotes and prayers. Seeing all of these things spill out of their haphazardly organized spaces (which I'm now trying to make sense of and really organize) has been a delight, but a bit overwhelming. It's a bit like excavating things in an archaeological dig, only the layers I'm discovering are layers of myself: my older (but younger!) self.

I'm beginning to notice certain trends in things I collected, kept, or wrote during certain seasons. My 20s and 30s were both very full decades, my 30s especially so, since those years included graduate school (seminary) and motherhood. The changing seasons of my life are easy for me to spot, like gradually changing colors in the layers.

And the one thing that stands out to me, with awe-filled gratitude, is that I've never lost my deep love for the written word. All those quotes and poems and articles and prayers I've collected, other people's words that inspire me, comfort me, challenge me...like a colorful bouquet of ribbons, like lifelines. And finding my own words has been eye-opening too, looking back on what I've written and what I've cared about over the years, and discovering afresh how deeply certain themes run in my life.

And then there's the surprise: I've written a lot. More than I realized, more than I remembered. Even seasons of my life when I thought I wasn't writing much, when time with the pen or the computer was precious and spare, I've still written. I almost cried re-reading some of the old short stories: some of these characters were near and dear to my heart, and still are (I'm thinking of making a creative return to a few of my unfinished projects). All these words I've spilled out over the years, even the acreage of rough drafts (and that's mostly what I find) are testament to how much I've needed and wanted to write, even during lean periods when all I could manage was writing in the cracks and crevices of seasons filled with other important and worthy things.

Some of the quotations and prayers I've re-found have spoken to me so deeply again. In weeks to come, some of them may pop up here. I think I'll likely title them "excavation quotations"!