Not too long ago, my husband and I decided it was finally time to clean out the garage, which was no small task.  After sorting through cardboard boxes from perhaps one too many online orders, paint cans whose colors are no longer found on any of our walls, broken appliances, scraps from various projects and other junk, it became obvious that our cars were inadequate to the waste removal at hand.  Thankfully, my father-in-law was willing to lend his pickup truck and help in hauling the waste away.  A couple of trips to the dump later, he and my husband were done, leaving the garage, unsurprisingly, looking more spacious than it did before.

About a week later, we went to my in-laws house for a visit.  As I walked in, I saw a picture of myself, taken when I was about three-months-old, sitting on their piano. It is a picture that I’ve always liked because I look so joyful and engaged.

The look on my face as I puzzled as to how and why this photo would have ended up on the in-law’s piano must have been clear.  My mom-in-law quickly turned towards me and said, “Oh yeah, we found that in the bed of the truck the other day, and held on to it to give it back to you.”

Well, this was surprising, to say the least. For many reasons. First, there were no other photographs in the garage and I had no idea how it would have gotten there.  Secondly, the fact that no one saw it when all the various junk was sorted, loaded into the truck, or thrown out at the dump was extremely unlikely.  Lastly, that somehow this little picture remained in the open truck bed, undamaged, over many miles before it was found…

I paused to appreciate that, even through all its journeys, the times it seemed to be lost, not seen or thought about, it was still there. How amazing.

However, as delighted as I was at the find, especially given it’s decidedly unlikely reappearance, I really didn’t give it more thought at the time. When I got home, simply as a place for its safekeeping before taking the time to place into a photo album, I just placed the picture on the mirror above my dresser. And so it has remained.

What I have found is that in the mornings, when I am getting ready for work in front of that mirror, I glance down at that picture, and it brings me a smile. I smile because of it what it represents to me. It’s not that it’s a cute baby picture. Rather, it is a reminder of the essence of who I am, which somehow is easier to see and understand when looking at an image of myself before all the layers of human experience had time to obscure it. It helps remind me that the spirit in that photo is still within me. That I am a being that can see and create joy in the world, a being that is whole, and that I am beautiful regardless of my packaging. That everything I need is within me and has always been.

The core, our essential beauty and spirit, is always there, we just have to remember it. This picture seemed to reappear in order to give me that opportunity. An opportunity to pause each day to appreciate that this essence, even through all the journeys, the times it seemed to be lost, not seen or thought about, is always there. How amazing.