Once a shoe box was a filing cabinet. It housed papers; papers recording life: rent received – or not; places worked, wages earned. A time when folks made do with what was readily available. No dashing off to the store to buy a leather-bound journal to keep such one day to be discarded information. Evidence of necessity then has given way today to a twinge of holy envy for pleasant days of hardship; taken-in-stride-life that grew stewardship, loyalty, inventiveness, godly pride, laughter and sharing. Unopened gifts from the past, shielding our young — what have we done?
Life in a Shoebox
By
