The Curious Case of the Truth That Hid in a Box!
- MS
- Jul 21
- 11 min read
In the quiet moments that follow the chaos of the day, you may find yourself reflecting on a more profound loss, wondering if something precious has gone missing along the way. Not a necklace or a set of keys, but something more profound: wonder.
Wonder, not the kind you find in fairy tales, but the type that once lived inside your laughter, the sparkle behind your ideas, the courage in your questions, the permission to be fully you without apology.
However, life, with its unrelenting demands, often nudges you into roles you never auditioned for. Before you know it, you’re no longer the star of your own story. Instead, you find yourself auditioning for a part you already had.
Fear takes the director’s chair, shame begins to rewrite your lines, and you become convinced that your presence is a burden, your voice an intrusion, and your joy… a little too much.
This curious case is not a tale of blame; it is a journey of rediscovery.
It’s about return. It’s about following the candlelit clues back to the attic of your heart, where Jesus waits, not with judgment, but with a feathered pen and golden ink.
It’s about cherishing what has shaped you and finding peace with what has hurt you. Ultimately, it’s about gently allowing wonder to return to its rightful place: within you.
Strike a match and watch the flame flicker to life. Open the box filled with forgotten dreams. Remember, you are not too much for this world, and it’s not too late for you to start anew. Dear heart, you have never been overlooked.
Welcome to the curious case of the vanishing wonder, the curious case of the truth hidden in a box!
Together, let’s unravel this beautiful mystery.
The Clue in the Empty Store. The Aisles of Not Enough.
The case began, as most mysteries do, with something subtle and strange. It didn’t start with a scream, a broken window, a smoking gun, or a masked villain.
Instead, it began with a quiet ache, like the creak of an old floorboard in the soul, familiar yet unsettling. A question lingered like morning fog around my heart: “Why do I still feel like I’m too much, and yet somehow still not enough?”
The answer didn’t come from a textbook; it emerged from a habit I hadn’t realized had become a ritual: I kept returning to a peculiar little shop.
This place didn’t exist on any street map, but I knew the route by heart. It was the store of scarcity. Every time I felt inadequate, excessive, or like an inconvenience, I would wander back here. There were no warm lights or friendly clerks. The shelves were dusted in insecurity, the aisles dimly lit with flickering neon truths that weren’t true at all: “You’re a weight people tolerate. You must earn every smile. If you shine too brightly, they’ll leave.
Shrink to fit. Fold to belong.”
Fear managed the store, while shame operated the register. And I, well, I was their most loyal customer.
Fear rang up the price, shame bagged the goods, and I walked out carrying an invisible weight, wondering why I still felt so empty.
The Clue from the Golden Attic: Return to the Scene of Wonder.
Then came a knock. It wasn't loud or rushed, just a gentle tap on the attic door of my heart. When I opened it, Jesus stood there, a detective's notebook tucked under His arm and that familiar twinkle in His eyes, the kind that said, "Ready for another case?"
We climbed the staircase together, each step lit by soft candlelight. When we reached the top, golden morning light streamed through a large round window, spilling warmth across the room. Outside, a lush green garden bloomed, wildflowers bowing in the breeze as waterfalls sang in the distance. The air smelled of cedarwood, lavender, and something a little like childhood wonder.
And there, in the middle of the attic, was the box.
It was beautiful, made of polished wood swirled with vivid colors, like a celebration captured in grain and paint. Inside were carved wooden figures, each representing a memory, a relationship, or a part of myself I hadn’t yet learned to name.
I knelt beside it, fingertips brushing the curved lid.
Etched delicately in golden letters, gently glowing, waiting, were the words: “It is finished.”
The Clue to the Overlooked, Unraveling the Mystery of the Missing Person Report.
I sat beside the box on a velvet rug. Jesus sat beside me, cross-legged, with the detective notebook open between us. Scribbled across the top in looping handwriting: Case File: The Curious Case of the Vanishing Wonder Subject: Me. Symptoms: Withheld joy. Shrinking presence. Forgotten voice.
“Well?” He asked, tilting His head with a knowing smile. “Where should we begin?”
I let out a dramatic sigh and whispered, “I think I’ve lost her.”
“Who?” Jesus inquired with a mischievous glint in His eye, as if He did not already know the answer.
“My wonder,” I replied with a mock-serious tone, shaking my head like it was the world’s greatest tragedy.
We began the investigation. He handed me a tiny scroll. I unrolled it slowly, heart pounding: “I am too much.” “I take up too much space.” “People are burdened by me.”
Scroll by scroll, we read through old beliefs once stored like facts. They weren’t criminal, but they had indeed stolen something from me.
I exhaled. “I know these,” I whispered. “They’ve been narrating my life for years.”
Fear came, clipboard in hand, urgent. Shame followed, wearing foggy glasses and muttering regulations that no one ever questioned.
“Fear convinced me I had to earn space,” I said. “And shame told me my voice was always too loud, too awkward, too emotional. So I buried it.”
Jesus tilted His head, a thoughtful expression crossing His face. “But the question still remains: who hired them?”
I looked up, a wave of confusion washing over me. “What do you mean?”
He gestured to the shadows whispering in the corners of my mind. “These voices: Fear and Shame. When did they become the narrators of your worth?”
With gentle grace, He reached into the beautifully crafted box and lifted out a figurine that mirrored my own likeness, its head bowed as if burdened by invisible weight. “She wasn’t wrong,” He said softly, His voice imbued with compassion. “She was simply rehearsing the lies that someone else assigned to her.”
The Hidden Clue: Empty Shelves and the Aisles of Enough.
Before I could respond, the attic shimmered, and suddenly we found ourselves back in that peculiar little shop. I saw myself with a cart in hand, scanning the empty shelves. Notebooks labeled "Try Harder" were stacked beside boxes of "Be Less Emotional." Aisles were lined with signs saying "You're Too Much," looping endlessly.
Shame leaned against a display of “Not Enough” perfume bottles, offering free samples with every memory.
Jesus walked beside me but didn’t touch anything. He simply whispered, “You keep coming here, searching for your value. But this store has been out of stock since the day you were born, and it never carried what you were looking for.”
He pointed to a golden door in the distance, one I hadn’t noticed before. Above it, a sign shimmered: “Heaven’s Inventory: Overflowing Since the Beginning.” I stepped toward it, my heart trembling.
“You’ve been shopping in scarcity,” He said softly, “when everything you need has already been stocked in My storehouse: Love, Joy, Delight, Creativity, Worth. None of it is out of stock.”
The Clue from the Shelf: The Scrolls Rewritten.
Back in the attic, I reached into the wooden box.
Each wooden figurine I lifted stirred a memory, some tender, some tear-stained, some half-forgotten. They were not villains or heroes; they were just people, moments, memories, and seasons.
Alongside each one was a scroll. I read them aloud with Jesus: “You’re an intrusion. Your feelings are too heavy. You are too much. You’re only loved when you’re quiet, agreeable, and valuable. You are not enough. You are only lovable if you perform. You are only acceptable if you become whatever others need."
Too much. Not enough. Too late. Always wrong.
My throat tightened. “These were the stories I built relationships on,” I said. “Trying to prove I was worth choosing, worth staying for.”
Jesus dipped a feathered quill into golden ink and began rewriting them.
“You are a delight, not a disruption. Your voice is wonder, not weight. You are not too much. You are a miracle measured exactly to the heartbeat of heaven.”
He placed the scroll beside the box and smiled, “Let’s refile this under Truth.”
Now each rewritten scroll curled itself into the light, tucked gently beneath its figurine like a blessing.
The Clue in the Shadows: Sealing the Past in Love.
With every scroll rewritten, every wooden figure dusted off and blessed, the room began to glow, not with dramatic fireworks, but with something even more magical: peace.
“I thought I needed to erase the past, but I don’t. I just need to bless it. And release it.” I whispered.
We tied the ribbon around the box, not to seal it shut with shame, but to tuck it lovingly onto a shelf, a shelf made just for this in the golden attic of my heart. Not to bury the past, but to bless it. Not to forget, but to remember rightly.
Memories aren’t pesky villains lurking in the shadows; they are delightful chapters filled with color in the story of my life. I’m not a victim sulking in the corner; I’m a heroine in progress, gracefully navigating each twist and turn of my adventure with a sprinkle of sparkle and a dash of courage!
The Clue to the Mystery: The Wonder Returns.
The attic was still, wrapped in that soft, golden hush that only comes when heaven leans in close.
I sat beside Jesus, cross-legged on the worn rug, the wooden gift box now gently tucked on its velvet shelf. Everything shimmered with the warm glow of candlelight and closure, except something still stirred inside me. A weight that hadn’t quite named itself yet.
Jesus didn’t rush. He simply leaned back, arms resting on His knees, eyes kind. “What are you feeling, little detective?”
I swallowed. “Relief… but also something else. Like maybe I thought I was letting go of them, the people, the memories, the ones who hurt me. But it feels deeper than that.”
He nodded, the corners of His eyes crinkling with that secret smile He always gave when I was close to a breakthrough. “What if,” He said gently, “the real thing that needed releasing was never them at all?”
I looked up at Him. He leaned closer, whispering as if He were sharing the final clue of the case: “They were already in the box. They already belonged to yesterday. But the story you kept reliving, the ache, the powerlessness, the replaying of every scene, wasn’t about them. It was about the belief that you were a victim. And that belief kept you living like a beggar in a world where you’ve always had a seat at the table.”
My breath caught in my chest. All this time, I thought I was holding onto them, but I had actually been clinging to the belief that I had no choice. That love had to be earned. That rejection was always one step ahead. That I had to brace myself, bargain, beg, or become someone else just to belong.
Tears welled up in my eyes, not from pain, but from the release. Jesus reached for my hand, wrapping it in His. “That belief built its own language, didn’t it?” He asked. “The words you spoke over yourself, the way you explained your worth through the hurts. The fear and shame curled up in your imagination and whispered, ‘This is who you’ll always be.’”
I nodded. He lifted my other hand and gently placed the invisible belief in it, as if it were a scroll finally unraveling: “I am a victim. I have no power. I am not enough. I am too much. There is no other way.”
Taking a quiet breath, He reached for the scroll and said, "Let's place this final one in the box as well."
Tears welled in my eyes. “I thought healing meant getting over the memories,” I said softly.
“No,” He whispered with a smile. “Healing meant placing the victimhood in the box. The belief that you had no other choices. The words you spoke to yourself in the dark. The way you braced for rejection before love ever had a chance. The ways you tried to control the ending to avoid heartbreak. The shame that asked you to shrink and the fear that dared you to chase but never rest. That’s what you released today.”
The moment the lid closed, a soft light poured through the attic window.
The words on the lid glowed even brighter now: “It is finished.”
I turned to Him. “Was that… the real mystery?”
He smiled, brushing a wisp of hair from my forehead. “The only real mystery,” He said, “was how long you believed you weren’t already free and enough.”
And in that golden moment, with candles flickering, wildflowers waving outside the window, and heaven humming softly through the silence, I knew I wasn’t a victim. I wasn’t a burden. I wasn’t too much or not enough. I was a wonder, returned.
Jesus smiled, like sunrise after a long night.“Let My voice be the loudest one. Let My truth be the soil where your dreams take root. Live from the fullness of your identity in Me, where love is not earned but received, where peace does not require performance, and where joy flows like a river from within. The Kingdom’s supply house never runs dry, and I never grow weary of delighting in you." Leaning closer, with a voice soft as a gentle breeze, He whispered, “It brings me immense joy to fulfill your deepest desires and watch your hopes bloom into reality."
My beloved reader, as you navigate through life's ups and downs, remember that we all carry our own weights. Sometimes it feels heavy, but it's also what shapes us and makes the journey worthwhile. Embrace the challenge with a playful spirit! You’re stronger than you think, and every step you take helps lighten the load. So, keep dancing through the tough moments, sprinkle in some laughter, and don’t hesitate to share the weight with those around you. After all, life is a delightful balance of carrying and being carried. Keep shining brightly, because you’re worth every bit of effort! Cheers to your amazing journey ahead!
As you venture into the attic of your own heart, you might stumble upon some quirky wooden boxes bursting with seasons, people, memories. Keep your ears perked for the sound of Jesus giving a friendly knock at the door of your heart!
Here are some treasured nuggets of wisdom to stow away for a rainy day:
Clue Notes from the Scene.
• Culprits: Fear and Shame, disguised as Self-Awareness and Humility
• Case File: “Unsolved: Why Do I Still Listen to Shame and Fear?”
• Lie Disguised as Wisdom: “You are not enough. You are too much. You’re an inconvenience. Stay quiet.”
• Truth Glowing in Candlelight: “You are a gift. You are a wonder. You are a delight. You’re a presence worth celebrating.”
Detective’s Log: Case Notes from the Field. Truths Worth Repeating:
• Deceptive Notion:
I am either too much or not enough, lost in the chaos of self-doubt.
~Resounding Truth :
I am a breathtakingly unique creation, intricately designed and valued. I embrace myself, flaws and all. I bring something unique to the table that no one else can. (Psalm 139:14)
• Misguided Belief:
I am merely a burden to those around you, a weight dragging them down. I’m not enough to be loved as I am. Closure means erasing the past.
~Illuminating Truth : I am a precious gift, a rare treasure bestowed from above, meant to shine. (James 1:17)
I am already loved, completely, presently, permanently. (Romans 8:38–39)
Closure means honoring the past and walking forward with peace. (Isaiah 43:18–19)
• Falsehood :
There’s an endless shortage of love and space for me; I feel invisible and alone. Fear keeps me safe.
~Affirming Truth : In the infinite expanse of Heaven, love flows abundantly, and there is always room for me. (Philippians 4:19)
Love is the only voice worth following. (1 John 4:18)
Detective’s Daily Reminders
1. When fear begins to speak, pause and inquire: Who granted it the microphone? Then, boldly reclaim your voice and silence that inner critic.
2. When shame tries to stick its labels on you, counteract with your own declarations of truth: you are Beloved, a Unique Gift, Radiant in your authenticity, and Absolutely Enough as you are.
3. Craft new narratives for yourself: pen heartfelt love letters, filled with kindness and encouragement. Read them often, letting their words weave comfort into your daily life.
4. Maintain your mental attic for cherished memories, but refresh its decor. Allow those recollections to shine in vivid color, bringing warmth and joy instead of settling into the dullness of grayscale.
5. Nurture the Garden of your life: venture outside your comfort zone, embrace opportunities with a resounding yes, and let the vibrant sound of joy drown out the whispers of caution.
And most importantly, Let Jesus Narrate: When in doubt, hand the mic to Him. Every time. Ask, “Jesus, what’s true about me right now?” Then listen.
