[originally posted May 26 2012, 5:27 AM]
I'm returning to my hometown of St. Elmo IL to tend to some family business. I thought of it as sorting through a bunch of hoarded junk in the garage and upstairs of my parents' house. After some reflection this morning, I'll think of it as a treasure hunt instead.
This house is a sacred place where I was lovingly taught important values that have shaped me for the better. It was a place of security and safety, and of modest abundance. My mother died almost a year ago, and my father moved soon thereafter to a nursing home because of his dementia. The house has been empty of inhabitants but is still full of memories.
So when I'm lifting heavy scraps of metal, or sorting through endless small boxes stuffed with napkins, receipts, and plastic grocery bags, I'll remind myself that it's the treasure we find that makes it worthwhile. It may come in the form of a precious photo tucked inside a book, a diary of our grandfather's final days, or merely a recollection of simpler times.
All told, instead of a chore, I'll see it as an adventure -- a treasure hunt.