A Note Of Encouragement

Designing Moves
Oct 22
3 min read

When I first began the slow, methodical process of cleaning out my parents' home, I'll admit I grumbled. A lot. Mom had saved everything—every card, every magazine, every scrap of paper that had crossed her path before Alzheimer's and dementia claimed her creative and curious mind. What had once seemed like an overwhelming mountain of clutter has become something entirely different: an unexpected treasure hunt that brings me exactly the encouragement I need, exactly when I need it.

Hidden Messages of Hope

Tucked between the pages of well-worn books, taped on kitchen cabinets, and carefully cut from magazines, I keep discovering my mother's quotes. Each one feels like a gentle whisper across time, as if she had the foresight to scatter these breadcrumbs of wisdom throughout the house, knowing I would find them during my dark moments of grief and overwhelm.

The timing I am sure is God inspired. Just when I'm feeling frustrated by another box or basket of seemingly random papers or trinkets. When I'm questioning whether I'm making the right decisions, I find guiding quotes written in Mom’s handwriting.

Time Capsules in the Margins

What makes these discoveries even more poignant are the glimpses of daily life that accompany them. A quote by Ovid that says: “Take rest; A field that has rested gives a bountiful crop” on a recipe card. An inspiring passage about perseverance and faith shares space with a phone number.

These fragments paint a picture of a woman who wove inspiration into the fabric of her ordinary days. While running errands and managing household details, gardening, leading after school program at church she was also collecting wisdom. Every meaningful phrase that crossed her path was worth saving, worth revisiting, worth keeping close.

From Clutter to Connection

I used to wonder why she saved so much. Now I understand that what looked like clutter was her way of surrounding herself with hope. In a world that could feel chaotic and uncertain, she created pockets of beauty and meaning everywhere she looked. Her home wasn't just filled with objects—it was filled with reminders of what mattered most.

Each quote I discover feels like continuing a conversation we can no longer have in person. When I find her handwriting on a slip of paper …….I can almost hear her voice reading it aloud.

The Gift That Keeps Giving

This accidental treasure hunt has transformed one of the most difficult tasks of grief—sorting through a lifetime of possessions—into something sacred. Instead of dreading the next box or drawer, I find myself approaching each new discovery with curiosity and anticipation. What wisdom will I uncover this time? What glimpse into her inner world will surprise me?

I've started keeping them to remind me of her saved wisdom. Some I photograph and share with family. Others I keep close, adding them to my own collection of quotes when I need reminding that even in loss, there can be unexpected gifts.

The Wisdom in Saving

Looking back, I realize that what seemed like an inability to let go was actually profound intentionality. Mom understood something I'm only now learning: that words have power, that inspiration is worth preserving, and that sometimes the encouragement we need most will come from the most unexpected places.

Every quote she saved was a seed of hope planted for a future moment of need—perhaps her own, perhaps mine. In her wisdom, she created a legacy that extends far beyond the physical objects in her home. She left behind a treasure map of comfort, written in her own hand and scattered throughout the places she loved most.

As I continue this bittersweet journey of sorting, I'm grateful for these surprise encounters with her heart and mind. Each discovered quote reminds me that love finds a way to reach across any distance, even the vast space between memory and today.

Sometimes the most precious inheritances come folded in old envelopes, waiting patiently to be found by those who need them most.