Love in a Neon Orange Lunch Box

When I was 7 years old my family lived on a small farm in the southern part of the province I live in. I loved it there. I fit in great. I knew I had found the one place in the world that I wanted to spend all of my days. In my first 7 years of life my father had kept us moving around a lot. We were never more than 6 months in a town or city before it was time to move on to another one.
This was the first time we were not living in a city. My brother and I had to take a school bus through winding, gravel, country roads every day going to and from school. In fact, in my grade 2 class of approximately 35 students, only 2 of them lived in that little town 10 miles away from our farm. The rest of us were all out-of-towners. It was into this environment and time of life that I learned something that would effect me for the rest of my life.

Because we took a bus to school, we had to bring our lunch every day. My brother had a great "Batman" lunch box, but I had none. And it was neither practical nor economical for me to carry a bag to school every day. So one Saturday, near the beginning of October, my mother and I headed off into the “big city” to buy me a lunch box. No matter how many stores we went to or how hard we looked, we just couldn’t find a lunch box that was appropriate for a little girl of 7. As it was getting dark and we were both feeling tired, we settled on the nearest lunch box at hand, bought it and headed home.

The last store we were at only sold lunch boxes for working men. You know the kind. Big, black with a thermos in the lid. Except Mom just couldn’t send her little girl to school with a black one, so she grabbed for the only other color they had. A bright orange one. The same color you would find on a traffic pylon cautioning drivers that there are men-at-work. I suppose that’s exactly who it was made for.

On Sunday my mother scrubbed the life out of that lunch box. If it was going to be anything, it was going to be CLEAN! But all through Sunday she just kept apologizing to me.
 “I’m sorry, Laura-Lee. Mommy really goofed. I know that’s not a lunch box for a little girl. I promised I’ll make it up to you. Next Saturday we’ll go and get a better one. It'll be the perfect one. One that you could be proud of and not embarrassed by.”

Oh, nobody knows us like our mothers do. She was right. That massive, man’s, orange, road construction crew lunch box was going to be an embarrassment to me. All the other little girls had Wonder Woman, Ballerinas or at the very least were small, delicate and in some little girl colour. I went to bed Sunday night with my fearful little heart dreading the next day, even though I had assured my mother that I didn’t mind the lunch box at all. I told her it was great because it was new. I told her it was wonderful because it could fit so much more food (including cookies). I didn't want her to think she had failed me. (My pain has always been her pain).

I woke Monday morning with a heavy heart. The whole situation was a mess. From the first moment I entered the kitchen, I saw the bright, orange lunch box sitting on the kitchen counter. ( I mean, who could have missed seeing it?). But now, all over it were big flowers of different colors. My mother had stayed awake for the entire night making the lunch box more “girlie” by putting flowers all over it. Mom had found some scraps of “Mac Tac” which was a roll of plastic (like wall paper) that had a backing you removed, which made it very sticky. However, since this was 1973, the “Mac Tac” we had left over was olive green, brown, orange, red and purple in very vibrant patterns. She had cut out flowers from this Mac Tac and put it all over my lunch box. She had done it to be kind, but it had actually made the lunch box all the more ridiculous. Now it was about a 9.3 on the Richter scale. It was a lunch box catastrophe.

Not only had she been up all night “fixing” the lunch box, but she had taken extra care in packing my lunch, which included my favourite home made cookies and a thermos of hot soup.
 She looked at me with her sleepy, sad face and all she could say was,
“I’m sorry. I meant to make it better and I guess I just made it worse. I bet you wish you had any other Mom but me right now.”

I said nothing in response because it was one of those moments where words would have cheapened it. If I had told her that I didn’t want the lunch box she simply would have gotten me a brown bag and the next weekend we would go and buy a prettier lunch box and my problem would be over. But if I did that, I would hurt her and make her feel worse than she already did. She put so much of herself into that lunch box that to reject it would have been like rejecting her. I just couldn't do it! 

I told her the lunch box was great and I wouldn’t think of not taking it. She took me on a tour of all she had done to “spiff” it up and all the “goodies” she had included for me. I realized even deeper just how much time and energy and love she had spent in doing that for me. Then I thought about the  long, busy day without sleep she was about to endure and an intense determination took root and grew inside me. I would display that orange box for all the world to see and just dare them to say anything !!

But as the school bus was bumping down the back road toward our driveway, my courage failed and I looked around desperately for a way to hide my orange monstrosity. I did a pretty good job of it until I arrive in my classroom.
 In order for us to take off our coats, we had to put our lunch boxes on a shelf above us to get into our locker. It was time to take off my coat and take my seat, but I didn’t want to put my lunch box on that high shelf. I looked around everywhere and thought hard for an alternative but found none. As I hoisted it high onto the shelf, I swear it started to look as if it was actually glowing.
 Behind me I heard the snickering start. I didn’t look back but as I took off my coat the laughter spread. But instead of being scared or embarrassed, I got mad. I thought of my wonderful mother, the work she had done for me and all the love represented by that lunch box and when I whirled around to look into the other kids eyes, they took one look at my face and choked back their comments and giggles. If they had any intention of saying something about my lunch box, it died then and there. But I grew bolder still.
 I asked calm and cool, “Is there something anyone would like to say to me?” At that moment the entire classroom fell completely silent with all eyes on me.
Just then our teacher walked in and took note of how quiet everyone was and gently inquired, “What’s going on here?"
 One of the boys, who had been about to tease me responded, “Laura-Lee was just showing us her lovely new lunch box”. And what amazed me most was that he had said it with deep feeling and respect, not a smart mouthed way.
  Our teacher did a quick scan and her eyes fell on my orange lunch box and a look of understanding came over her. She simply said, “Well. Isn’t that nice of you. It is very lovely with all those nice flowers too.”
 In her wisdom she had commended the boy for not teasing me; encouraged me for taking a stand; and she had taken her stand by showing her approval for the lunch box.

Needless to say, I was never teased about my lunch box, but that is still not the end of this story.
 In that small town near our farm, there was only one main store. It sold everything from breakfast cereal to horse halters. The next weekend Mom and I didn’t go into the “big city” again. There was no need to because I didn't need a new lunch box . We went to the little town's main store.  But as we were checking out with our groceries, the man who owned it asked Mom,
 “Mrs. Rahn, if a person wanted to get Mac Tac where exactly would they go?”
Mom was a bit puzzled by the question because I had not told her all that occurred at school about my lunch box.
 She told the man that she wasn’t sure because she had bought some such a long  time ago and had forgotten where it came from. We finished checking out and paying for our groceries. The store owner walked us to the door (which he had never done before) and asked her another question. “Mrs. Rahn. What exactly is Mac Tac?”

On the way home Mom and I were puzzling over his questions and wondering why he was asking all about Mac Tac. I figured it had something to do with my lunch box, but I didn’t understand the extent of it until Monday morning when I got to school and found 7 other little girls had flowers put on their lunch boxes too.

 I laughed to myself trying to picture the scene of those little girls trying to describe to their parents what my lunch box looked like and what Mac Tac was. (This little farm town was not exactly a "hip and happening" place.) And then the parents trying to recreate it and finally in exasperation heading to the only store for some answers. Answers the store owner didn't have.
Probably saying things like, "Well, the little Rahn girl has Mac Tac. Why can't you get it?!"
Until finally, the store owner saw Mom and I walked in and  decided to get the information about "Mac Tac" directly from the source. Looking back on it though,  I think he was trying to go about it subtly.
The other parents had tried to put flowers on their little girls lunch boxes with glue, construction paper, wool, chicken wire, you name it, because none of them had any idea what Mac Tac was.

Now it might sound like I've made a big deal made out of something little, but I was little and it was a big deal to me.  And a big deal to Mother as well.
 I look back now and realize that God teaches us only what we can handle, when we can handle it.
And I ask you, is a person ever too young to learn the lesson of standing by those you love and who love you?
Not to mention the great lesson of what life can bring when you refuse to just "give in" and "following the crowd".
What I learned from that orange lunch box got me through my teen years practically unscathed.  And through even more turbulent adult years.
Also, as Christianity becomes more and more unacceptable, I realize that someday, standing up for Jesus may cost me a great deal. Maybe my all. I wouldn’t be ready for that moment unless I had gotten it right with that precious orange lunch box at that very young age.
Yes, now I call it "precious". What started as an eye sore, turned into a problem and then an embarrassment. But in the hands of the Lord, it became a lesson in loyalty and love I will ponder and treasure forever.
I don't know what became of that neon orange lunch box, but like casting a stone on the water, the ripple it began all those years ago keeps growing and growing. And now that I am telling YOU about it, God only knows how much farther the ripples will spread.

It's not easy to be who you are without any apologies. To stand up for what's right even if the rest of the world stands against you. But if you do, I guarantee you won't be standing totally alone. Jesus will be right beside you. And he always reserves a few people who have not bowed to idols. (whatever the idol may be)
 It never ceases to amaze me how the Lord can use the most ordinary people and our every day events to make the most profound impact.

“What then shall we say in response to this? If God is for us, who can be against us?”  (Romans 8:31)