DAWN REED

When my beloved became a pastor in 1998, a box labeled “TOMMY AND DAWN’S MEMORIES” was gingerly and reverently carried from the attic of our old house to our new home: the parsonage of McVeigh Baptist Church. It was stored in the garage there for over five years.

That treasure box was carted to Little Paint Creek when we moved to Floyd County in 2003. It was placed in a storage shed.

In 2005, the box named “TOMMY AND DAWN’S MEMORIES” was moved to the attic of the new parsonage of Fitzpatrick Baptist Church. And it remained there, unopened, until last month.

I had carried, protected, and guarded the box of our first memories as a couple for decades. The container held newlywed memories, notes from high school, ticket stubs, receipts from a trip to Germany in 1982, holiday cards we sent to each other, etc. Loaded to the top with memorabilia years ago, the contents were now barely readable. Each paper was filled with holes.

That whole “moth corrupts” thing Matthew 6:19 talks about is legit.

My beloved had been encouraging me to go through all the stuff stored in the attic for about…ok, probably five years. At first, he was subtle. He dropped a hint here and there and here and there. I meant to get to it. I planned to get to it but never did. Finally, a few weeks ago, it was time. One day while I was at work, he moved everything out of the attic. Suddenly, there was no putting it off.