The Box

Looking at a box, one can see its color, its shape, feel its texture, life it to know its proximate weight, but that is all outward. What about its contents? Likewise, with identity, the female student sitting two rows to my right in class may see me as someone with little fashion sense, or walking towards my next class the passing stranger may view me as friendly when I flash a smile and a cheery "Hello!" But what about my contents, what makes me who I am? Do I have passions? What motivated me to greet someone passing by on the street? Could it have been my love for people? One might peer into an opening in a box and see its make up, but another might view a different opening and see a whole other side of the contents. Only the box can truly know what it contains. My roommate says I listen well when other are having a difficult time, my dad says I am independent, and my sisters say I am bossy. Sure, I have been accurately described, but these depictions are abstractions of the real me. Really, they are only a mere translation of my outward self to the surrounding world. Who can fully know me when they have never experienced being me? Has the girl in my class ever spent hours tutoring Freddie, a fifth grader in Harrisburg who has melted my heart and caused me to be highly passionate about inner-city education? Have my sister ever played on my softball team, or has my dad ever loved to draw? Who knows that I long to labor in a third world country, and how many can tell from the outside that Reformed theology excites me? These are things that form my identity--my fascination with different cultures, my enjoyment of competing alongside my teammates of many years, my love of God. Yes, like the box, my outward appearance of fair skin, blonde hair, and a slender build give me who I am on the outside, but the treasures are located where only one person has the master key--ME!!!