Scrapbooks

Most of my mission/humanitarian trips have scrapbooks to tell the story.  I finally finished the one from the Philippines.  I. am. so. glad.  It’s been over a year.  I got to the point with it where it was driving me crazy to see the box of adornments and photo envelopes at the corner of my couch.  I felt undone; I felt held back from moving forward with my next trip.  I needed to finish to have closure.  

I made scrapbooks of my first two trips, and they came easy.  When I was in high school scrapbooking was a way to spend time with my girlfriends.  But then it got so overwhelming - just step into a scrapbook store - you’ll quickly feel decorative detail overload.  Some people scrapbook everything and every page is an expensive display piece.  While I admire their tenacity, I’m not quite that committed.  I enjoyed the creative outlet so I decided to continue with “big” events.  The first one being the 2002 Olympics.  The scrapbooks of my first two Honduras trips began to serve another purpose.  They became a way to process through journal entries and photos.  The challenge was to visually capture the emotion and experience I came to cherish inside my soul.  I used bible verses, song lyrics, personal writings, and words.  The two scrapbooks from 2007 take me back when I revisit their protected pages.

I don’t know what happened to my ability to create after trip #3.  I tried but after many efforts and ripped up textured pages, I had to let it go.  Honduras #3 and #4 do not exist.  Maybe this is evidence of something else going on at a deeper level at that time.  

The Philippines book is definitely a little rusty.  A few of the pages successfully evoke joy, like the time of connection with little Eric John, and holding gentle Caleb.  But I also remember the frustration of the pink and purple chair that I found out later was quickly discarded.  Highs and lows recorded on brightly colored, sparkly paper.  Scrapbooking can be so cliche, but it also can be very therapeutic.  

I’ve got quite the collection now.  Sometimes I sit on the floor and reminisce about how God has taken me to the random corners of the world.  I think about how the familiar faces have helped shape my spirituality and point of view in intense times.  I am grateful, and sometimes eventually grateful for every experience that receives commemoration.  And I daydream about what will fill the blank pages on a book sitting on the store shelf somewhere.