Out of the past.

For the last month, we have been in a bit of a frenzy at my house. Unbeknownst to us, we have been encroaching on the neighboring vacant lot. The previous owners were, as well. And, as it goes with vacant lots, it was put on the market and sold. Then the surveyor came. 

That's when the frenzy started. Not too many months ago, we had a rather large shed built (on what we thought was our property), and yes, that had to be moved. And the cute little greenhouse, as well. To accommodate this overwhelming task, we had to remove what was our front yard and install a driveway, find a building mover, and figure out how to move the greenhouse. I felt like my security of place was being ripped apart.

My reentry back into my beloved hobby has been somewhat a similar frenzy. Finding my boxing kit long buried and forgotten, reestablishing my crafting area and online connections, and all the remembering. 

My vast collection of carving effort, and the remnants of store-boughts from long-ago scrappin' days, had been long forgotten, as well. Their once-tidy storage drawers looked like they withstood Hurricane Katrina - each stamp holding the memories of the time and context of when it was created. They also remember.

I spent the good part of a day reorganizing and remembering. I spent time remembering the places, the people, the laughter, and the life lived. And then I remembered the context. Y'know, sometimes we try to out-run and forget our past, thinking it shameful for whatever reason. But I say it often: we always make decisions based on the information we have at the time, and shame for our past decisions isn't usually warranted or helpful. It is always a good time to 'own' our stories and accept the past. It is not easy, and I have been working on 'owning my story' for what seems like a very long time, but it continues. There is value in all our experiences, regardless of our judgment of them. They enabled us to get where we are at this moment. I believe every experience changes us, and going through all that history is a way of making peace with the past and owning my story. 

These are all Star Wars-themed stamps. Yep, they are in a pile - well, they were. Now they are all neatly placed in that drawer awaiting their future. Some I will keep, some I will plant, some I might pitch. We'll see. What I didn't photograph was all the religiously themed stamps, of which there is almost as large of a pile. As a developmental psych student, I could look back and analyze my own identity-building and development, but I will leave that for another day.

So, just like moving the buildings off of the property line, I had to coax all these memories and hobby leftovers back into their lane. The lane of the future and out of the past. 

The driveway, shed, and greenhouse are all moved, thankfully. Next is a deer-deterring fence. I am actually very happy with all the changes - as with all things, there is good with the not-so-good and unexpected. I am thankful we were in a financial position to take care of things, that we met some fabulous new friends (I have a new driveway BFF!), and the whole affair allowed us to reorganize and declutter. And I can now have some peace of mind that we are completely on our own property. I am grateful for all those things.

Long ago I learned that if I messed up a stamp during the carving (or any project, for that matter) and had to start over, that the end product would be even better than what I had, despite the wasted material and effort. It is true: No effort is ever wasted - it is only practice for future success.