Issue 37 · One poem
The Shoe Box
Long-form essay: dust, a hidden heart, and the willing return.
“For the first time in my life, I was broken.”
The Shoe Box
The Shoe Box Most people keep pictures, letters, and other special memories is some kind of shoe box placed under their bed. I am no different then most. Although while I do have a shoe box placed under my bed, it only has one item in it, the item I prize above all other things I possess. I have not looked in this shoe box in quite awhile, and I am a bit hesitant to try now, but still I venture into my bedroom to complete a part of my life I have neglected for far to long. Kneeling beside my bed, I reach under the bed skirt to grab what has been hidden away for so long now. As my hand grasps the top of the box, I can feel the layers of dust that have built up over the years. I find myself feeling relived and scared at the same time that it is still here. I can feel myself taking a deep sign as I slowly slide the box towards the edge of the bed. At the moment, I could not decide if this was sign of relief or of hesitation. I do not think I will ever forget the scraping sound that old shoebox made as it slide across the floor of my bedroom. As the box slowly came in to view, I could feel a strange energy crawling across my skin. A sort of excited nervousness I haven't felt since I was a kid. Honestly, a large part of me wanted to quickly push the box back under the bed and forget it ever existed. All too clear were the memories and emotions of the last time I touched this shoebox. For I thought I was ready to have its contents back in my life. I had even made some promises to one of God's most holy angels that I would use the contents of this simple box to bless our lives and the lives of others close to me. But all was not right in my life, and before I had completely recovered the contents of the box, I had shut its lid and placed the box back deep under my bed again where it would sit and wait for me to return. I also remember the exact moment I first hide this box away. It was a time of deep sorrow in my life, a time when I had no use for my heart. I had just lost my daughter to the incessant hostility of a heartless family. Wounded and shamed, they left no safe heaven for me, not even within the confines my own heart. My heart, in essence, became a vile surrounding of bitterness and grief. Forced to leave my precious daughter behind with the lies of who and what I am. Knowing that she will only be told and think the worst of me and my actions, but who could blame her, after all I did abandon her to save myself. In the beginning, I had thought of simply throwing its contents in the garbage, but somehow I could not bring myself to do this. I had a feeling that someday, sometime I would want it again, and be ready to have and share it with others. For the first time in my life, I was broken. Emotionally, spiritually . completely. For the first time in my life, I understood how a person could even consider suicide. Thoughts of killing myself became less painful then thoughts of living another day. I tried for years to force my way through life like nothing was wrong. I became a facade. I put on a happy face and took life by the horns. I became very successful in my work and my life. Any attempt this family made to bring me down or attack me, only succeeding in giving me strength in pushing forward. But in the end it was a facade. Only those truly close to me ever knew the truth. The pain I have caused myself and other is unforgivable. For I tried to love several women with a false heart, with false love, and false emotions. Somehow trying to find my heat, while forgetting where I had left it in the first place. It was if I were a robot trying to emulate love. While I could replicate its effects, it was all some how cheap and fake. Looking back, I can not see any other choice I had. This was my self preservation, my way to survive. There was always one person, the person closest to my in life, who always knew the truth, new my true emotions, who would not fall for this facade. And it is her who I have hurt the most. I wish I could only have cared for her the way I truly cared for her. For she is the most important person in my existence. I soul will always sorrow for the pain I have caused her. If there is truly opposition to all things, then someday I will be capable of a love most can not even imagine. For I have experienced a hate that I hope no one will ever know. I have literally thirsted for the blood of others. I have felt feelings that I am scared and even ashamed to remember. For in doing so, I can understand the hearts and minds of the worst and most evil men that have ever lived. I pray to God that I never experience them again. I guess the true test of a man's character can only be discovered after he has been tested by great tribulation. I am not sure why I have been punished so. True, I did make mistakes, and I did do many things that were wrong, but I have suffered a punishment that far surpasses my crimes. As the old saying goes, What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger I am not establishing myself as a martyr or anything great, but I know who and what I am. I guess I also now know what I am truly made of and what I can handle. In retrospect I should be grateful for what I have been though, and I just might be someday, but not so much right now. I do not think that there is a day that goes by with out me having a thought of my daughter. Where she is, what she looks like, what she is doing, what she will grow up to be like. And I am sure that there will come a day when she knocks on my door, to ask me for herself why I abandoned her. All I will be able to say is that I left for her good and mine. For she has a good mother who loves her very much, and a father to be there for her where I was not. It is sad to admit that she is and will be better off without me being in her life right now. But I will get my time. But for now, I sit here on my bedroom floor, holding a shoebox in my hands, debating with myself if I am ready. For I placed in this box so long ago a piece of me. For I could not allow my heart, the most precious part of me, to become lost and corrupted by the hatred that filled my soul. So I chose to remove it from me, and hide it away from the sins and emotions which once ruled my life. Gripping the lid, I remember all of the conversations I have had with my friend, stake president Jim Barton, and all of the conversations I have had with my Father in Heaven. Both of which told me that in order to have God help me, I must be willing to help him. I know I have many talents, and that I have been highly blessed of God. Ironically enough, there are two things God requires of his children, a contrite spirit and a willing heart. I do not think that I could have a more contrite spirit then I do now after going through the experiences that I have. So that only leaves the willing heart. I thing the hardest and most difficult thing to give to God is our free agency. Free agency, an eternal principle upon which all laws are based. God gives us the choice to follow him or to be humbled by him. Every knee shall bow and every tongue confess that Jesus is the Christ. No one is exempt for this rule. The irony comes from the need for us to use our free agency to surrender our lives and will to God, in essence doing what ever he would have us do and not what we ourselves would do. I know what will happen when I open this box. I just hope that I am ready for all that will follow. May God give me the support and strength that I will need to once again become a whole person. May God guide my heart and soul, teaching me the things I need to learn to once again return to live with him. Clark J. Madsen