Not Just A Name In A Box

🤦🏻‍♀️ If you caught yourself asking, "Do I Even Matter?"

Summer House. Art by Lexie Adape

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Listen to me read the story to you:

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👩🏼‍💻 "You're nothing, but a name in a box."

I froze, staring at my name that I’d just filled in at the top of an event form.

This little voice. It persisted.

“Five years from now, no-one's going to remember your show, or you.

Someone will pull out this form, and all that’s going to be left of you,

will be this name in the box. Program organizer - Lexie Adape". 

I slammed my laptop shut and rushed outside.

I was part of a massive organization that ran events for thousands of people on a daily basis, one after another. My job was producing festivals.

Outside, on the deck, I was looking at the ocean and asking,

“God, who cares what I’m doing?

I grind so hard, but does it even matter?

It feels like a tiny drop in the ocean, and even that’s going to dissolve.

All this sweat, and nothing will remain,

only my name in a box in a file in some obscure folder.

😟 Do I even matter?"

The ocean, this boundless mass of deep blue, looked pretty happy with itself and didn't seem to bother.

I felt smaller than a gnat.

And then it came.

A memory, long forgotten, stowed away. It burst open with sounds, colors and smells.

I'm six.

Grandpa and I are building a cabin.

Way out in the wilderness.

To get here, it takes over an hour by boat.

No electricity, so, no power tools. Only hand saws and hammers.

And Grandpa had to make an hour detour to pick me up in the morning. He'll have to do the same to bring me back to my parents at the end of the day.

Now we are here,

and he says

how much fun it is that I'm helping him to build the cabin. “I couldn’t do it without you”, he says and smiles.

Wrinkles around his eyes, like little warm sun rays, run out in all directions.

On this construction site out in the wild Grandpa saws and hammers all day, but it's not boring at all.

You see,

Grandpa knows forest creatures,

I mean, he knows them, in person.

In fact, they are best friends, so he knows where the squirrels are hurrying, because they told him.

He tells me what the birds in the tree are fussing about and what that cute field mouse has just whispered in his ear.

And my favorite,

this forest bunny,

he keeps sending me snacks and treats, sometimes a chocolate and sometimes a hard-boiled egg, you never know. He's quite a character.

🤩 I'm amazed:

Wow! My grandpa speaks animal talk!

And so it goes, to the accompaniment of sawing and hammering.

Whatever Grandpa's doing, I'm doing too.

I've got my own hammer, OK, a bit smaller than Grandpa’s. OK. Quite smaller than Grandpa’s. But I'm hammering real nails in.

From time to time we pause and look up in the sky to listen to a bird singing. It puzzles me how a tiny body can have such a mighty, beautiful voice.

So we're looking up.

We're taking the song in,

taking the sunshine in,

taking it all in.

When, at the end of the day, my parents ask me,

“So, what have you been doing today?”

I proudly announce, “Grandpa and I are building a cabin!”

I grew up firmly believing, Grandpa and I had built that cabin.

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Back on the deck decades later, that memory jolted me.

“Hang on, I was six.

“How could it be? Here he was, building a cabin with nothing but hand tools, and entertaining a little kid at the same time?”

And, if you've been around a six-year old long enough, you can imagine how many complaints, questions and requests you've got to deal with.

"I’m thirsty, I have a splinter in my finger, I’m hot, I'm bored, I hate these mosquitoes!”

Putting things into perspective, I was nothing but a huge pain on two little feet.

And he’d make a detour to pick me up, and bring me back after a day of excruciating labor only to smile and say "I couldn't have done it without you".

Jolted back, staring at the ocean I asked,

“Why? WHY??

Why would he go at such lengths, have a whining, chattering, demanding burden of a little kid in a hot sweaty summer AND work on a construction? And do it over and over again”?

Why did he do it?

There was absolutely no logic or reason.

None.

💡 Except this,

which hit me with a tsunami force.

Massive. Deep. Irresistible:

He loved me.

So what he added two extra hours on the road each time.

He loved me.

So what he had to sing, recite poems, tell stories, wipe snot and tears, fetch drinks and snacks, shoo away mosquitoes, take out splinters.

He loved me.

It didn’t matter how productive I was. It didn’t matter what I could do.

💎 It didn't matter if I was useful or not.

That cabin stood there for decades. I spent many summers there. All the way into my thirties I was confident that Grandpa and I had built the cabin. I used to remind my family about this as we enjoyed it in summer. Not once did my grandpa correct me.

“I couldn’t have done it without you”.

My friend,

Wherever you are right now,

whatever you’re going through.

you know what?

You are not just a name in a box.

You are loved.

You matter.

You are loveable.

even if it seems like at the moment what you’re doing is just a drop in the ocean.

It’s not about having to be useful

all. the. time.

You are here for a reason, and you're worthy of love.

So close your eyes for a moment and hear this:

PS: I encourage you to think of one, just one person who needs to hear today that they aren’t just a name in a box. Who comes to mind? Do click the button below and share this story with them