Thinking Inside the Box

Author © Scott D. Zachary

Rarely does a sparkle flare a foretelling aurora before its dawn. This story is a prime example where one casual comment ignited a blazing sparkle of determination to accomplish the extraordinary.

I went on my first Christian medical mission to Nicaragua in early August 2012. I celebrated my 55^th birthday on the Saturday before the mission by skydiving for the first time. As I walked across the tarmac back to the car, Holland Kendall called and asked me to take an auto-refractor with me to Nicaragua to replace one that broke. I picked it up at Holland’s house the night before I flew to Managua. As it turned out, the auto-refractor that supposedly broke was fine. The missionaries weren’t using it correctly. That happenstance ushered me into a sparkle—providing eyeglasses to the poor.

Upon returning from Nicaragua, I resigned my job as a systems analyst and programmer at ZirMed in Louisville, cashed in my 401K, and moved to Bobbie’s house in Lewisport, Kentucky, to focus on doing Christian mission work. I also envisioned going to nursing school if I could muster some funding to supplement my pile of cash. It seemed to me at the time that the Lord wanted me to serve as a nurse on overseas missions. I wasn’t keen on doing that, but I had told the Lord that I would do whatever He wanted. I asked Him only to make it perfectly clear as to what He wanted me to do.

I planned to go to Nicaragua on one or two more one-week missions during my time off. That was all I could afford. When I resigned my job, I frankly had no idea what other mission work I could do. I was making myself available for any mission-related work that might present itself. I prayed that the Lord would provide some opportunities. I’ve since discovered on plural occasions, when I make myself 100% available to the Lord, He always paints a pathway in front of me to follow. And sure enough, He did.

I began studying optometry at Kendall Optometry Ministry (KOM) in Louisville after I returned from that first mission in Nicaragua. During one of the training sessions, Holland described how organizations such as the Lions Club collect used eyeglasses which they donate to his ministry. He further told the class that his ministry loans ten lensometers to volunteers who measure the prescriptions of these donated eyeglasses. KOM ships cases of these glasses to optical mission teams all around the world. And they had a lensometer for me!

I drove an hour and a half every week to Louisville to pick up another large cardboard box of used eyeglasses and to deliver the ones that Bobbie and I had cleaned and measured during the previous week.

I had been the facilitator for a lunchtime Bible study group at Boomer’s Café during the past year while I worked at ZirMed in Louisville. Since I was going to Louisville every week, I decided to make my trips on Wednesdays so I could start up the Bible study group again.

On this particular Wednesday, our Bible study group was sitting in one of the back luncheon rooms of Boomer’s Café. While we ate, the devout and always gracious Steve Price, a bearded healthcare attorney, described a charity event in which he would be participating on Friday night. The purpose of the occasion will be to raise funds in support of the Open Door of Hope men’s homeless shelter in Shelbyville, Kentucky. Steve further explained that participants should bring a cardboard box with them and sleep in it for the night. A $35 donation would pay for the cost of that privilege.

“I’m in!” I whipped. “That sounds like fun!”

“Pastor Lee Bean, the founder and director of Open Door of Hope, usually holds the fundraiser in the parking lot of the homeless shelter,” said Steve. “However, storms are likely Friday evening, so Pastor Bean obtained permission from the Shelbyville First Baptist Church to use their gymnasium for the night, instead.”

No doubt you’ve gathered by now that I don’t do things the usual or expected way. I attribute this trait to being a systems analyst for 38 years. In this role, I aspire to imagine every logical possibility beforehand, however improbable. A lifetime of unrestricted brainstorming has carried over into my life outside of work. Otherwise, I just like to do things differently. Life is a lot more challenging and fun this way.

After the Bible study meeting, I retrieved my weekly box of eyeglasses from KOM at Fern Creek Baptist Church in Louisville, drove two hours to Penske Truck Rental in Owensboro, Kentucky, and bought seven large wardrobe boxes and four smaller boxes. Yes, I’m going to build a cardboard condominium!

Bobbie and I shopped Thursday night until 1:00 a.m. for items to furnish our temporary cardboard residence. We bought SpongeBob and Hello Kitty valances for the windows, rugs, pictures for the walls, lanterns, bedding, towel racks, a “Welcome” doormat, artificial plants for our make-believe flower garden, and Minnie Mouse duct tape to hold our craziness together. Of course, I bought a hasp and padlock as well as alarm warning stickers for the security of our cardboard château.

Steve had said they would judge the boxes and give out blue, red, and white ribbons as prizes in various categories. The event was to begin at 7:00 p.m. eastern time. Since Bobbie had to work that Friday, I figured we’d arrive after the judges awarded all the prizes. Thus, I bought a fancy purple Dora grand prize ribbon for our cardboard Taj Mahal.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Steve was standing outside as we pulled up to the church gymnasium entrance. I jumped out and shook his hand. “Hi, Steve, would you please help Bobbie and me with our building materials and tools?”

“Do what?”

I grinned. “Come with me.”

Steve followed me to the rear of Bobbie’s Lincoln Town Car. He gawked as I removed the bungee cords holding down the lid of the cavernous trunk and began pulling out my tool buckets, materials, and the eleven boxes.

“What are you going to do?” Steve petitioned.

“I’m going to build a cardboard palace. That’s what I’m going to do.” I handed Steve two five-gallon tool buckets filled with all the tools that I might need in my zealous endeavor.

Steve smiled broadly.

Numerous trips hauling everything into the gym heralded what I had in mind. Many teenagers had gathered around to watch. Several of them volunteered to help with our building project, making it all the more fun. One of the kids didn’t have a box for the night, so I gave him one of my wardrobe boxes.

While putting up the towel racks in my cardboard pipe dream, an inquisitive, curly blonde-haired filly peered inside to view the interior of my lunacy.  “What do you need towel racks for?”

“To satisfy my imagination,” I matter-of-factly responded.

“Oh.” She walked away, bearing a most perplexed expression.

A sweet, little dark-haired girl named Stormy, whose modest box is next to our building site, seems to be a little overwhelmed by the magnitude of my scheme. I think my grand feat makes her feel as though her box is inadequate. I helped Stormy remodel by giving her another box and a roll of SpongeBob duct tape to splice them together. I also gave her some of our furnishings. She crawled in to admire the enhancements to her homeless home.

Steve stopped by about eleven o’clock and said they were not going to be giving out ribbons this year; thus, I decided to keep my grand prize ribbon stashed away. But then, Mr. Wizzle sparked a super idea! I walked over to Stormy as she put the finishing touch on her home—a skylight over her bedroom so she could watch the stars. While talking with her, I inconspicuously placed the fancy purple Dora grand prize ribbon on the side of her box where she couldn’t see it.

I returned to my cardboard contrivance and feigned working on it. “Hey, Stormy,” I hollered. “They must’ve given out the awards for the best box while you were in the restroom—you won the grand prize!”

Stormy saw the grand prize ribbon and bounced up and down with excitement!

Thanks, Mr. Wizzle!

Soaked in sweat from our creative exertion, Bobbie and I continued working hard to finish our cardboard masterpiece, which included a living room with a cathedral ceiling and two cozy sleeping wings. The event manager came walking around, declaring, “Lights out in fifteen minutes.”

Oh no, we’re not done yet!

We scrambled and finished our sleeping quarters seconds before they turned out the lights at midnight. Bobbie crawled into her wing of our cardboard estate and settled in for a brief nap.

Pastor Lee Bean and Pastor Billy were sitting at the entrance to the gymnasium overseeing the event. As I passed by them to on my way to the restroom, Pastor Billy glanced in Stormy’s direction. “That was a really nice thing you did. Stormy’s had a rough time of it lately. You brightened her life.”

That filled me with joy!

I was so fired up that I couldn’t wind down enough to sleep. I went out into the lobby and worked on my journal until 2:30 a.m. Everyone started waking up three hours later to tear down their boxes for scrap. As Bobbie woke up in her wing of our cardboard menagerie, I snapped a picture of her thinking inside the box. Thinking what? I won’t venture to go there.

Bobbie and I swiftly tore down our condo so we could dash off to Louisville where we had volunteered to spend the day labeling donated eyeglasses for distribution around the world. Leaving the remnants of our cardboard castle in a pile on the sidewalk in front of the church, we waved good-bye to the other participants and drove off into the sunrise.