Most TV game shows are a study in psychology. No doubt a group of psych majors create competitions to outfox contestants by side-stepping their probable responses. I recall one game, however, that was straight forward and simple. The host walked through the audience waving a hundred dollar bill, looking for a willing participant.

Once he chose a woman to play, he might say, “Do you have a wooden match in your purse?” (…or a picture of a baby or a deck of cards?) If she produced the item he asked for, he’d hand her the $100. Occasionally someone would empty her purse right there on camera, flinging lipstick and keys in the laps of those nearby, frantic to find the winning item.

People say a woman’s biography can be written by the contents of her purse: pictures, pills, a wallet, money, make-up, pens, a phone, a key ring, glasses, receipts, a camera, gum, candy, credit cards, a comb. Each item has been carefully selected to be in the purse, and therein lies the biography.

This morning I needed some Post-it notes and opened Nate’s dresser drawer to get them. Although I’ve given away many of his things, the three top drawers in his high boy are exactly as he left them. And just like a woman’s purse, they say a great deal about who he was.

If you’re curious, read on: a lint roller, a hunting knife (in a leather case), a knife for filleting fish (also in a case), business cards (his own and others), three shoe horns, four pairs of black shoe laces, shirt collar stays, current contact info for our children, his watch (still ticking), one of my watches (not ticking, needing repair), 3×5 and 4×6 cards (for his Sunday notes to the kids), prescription glasses and their cases, a commuter train schedule, three pocket knives (small, medium and large), a tiny eyeglass fix-it kit, a gold tie clip with NIXON on it, pens galore, pencil lead in several sizes, refills for ball points and fountain pens, and a Wordless Book Gospel bracelet with a printed explanation of each colored bead.

As I fingered the items, everything inside of me nodded in recognition of my husband. The bottom line of his biography? Nate kept no secrets.

What if I’d found a bit of pornography hidden in the back? Or maybe an envelope of secret cash? There might have been mysterious phone numbers or names or web addresses.

Instead, every item made complete sense. Although Nate couldn’t have predicted that the contents of his drawers would be listed on the World Wide Web, he had nothing to hide. The list is clean.

Sometimes we operate as if we can hide things from God. In addition to stuff in our purses and drawers, we try to conceal the contents of our minds, a ridiculous sham. God can’t be deceived, tricked or conned. He sees it all.

I’ve asked myself, “Would I be happy with the contents of my drawers being listed on the web?” And more importantly, “Am I satisfied God is observing the thoughts in my head?” He says that one day everything hidden will be spotlighted, so this surely is food for thought.

Tonight I put everything back into Nate’s drawers, glad to know he was exactly who I thought he was: a man of upright character. And this fact offers sweet widow-comfort to me.

“There is nothing concealed that will not be disclosed, or hidden that will not be made known.” (Luke 12:12)