A Moving Tale

 (This is part of a ten-minute blog challenge put out by my new friend, Sarah Kovac, whose book, In Capable Arms, I cannot wait to read. Check out the link. I wrote this in ten minutes, so be kind.)

Well, it’s official. Hubby and I are moving again. Four years ago, we moved into a large house with luxuries we’d never known—a screened-in porch complete with hot tub, an attached garage, a dishwasher, and a laundry chute leading to an actual, spacious laundry room!

We knew it was temporary. Friends of ours were taking a two-year teaching contract in Malaysia and needed to rent out their home. We needed to dispense with our 21-year-old mobile home but were not ready to commit to a purchase. It was win-win. We moved in, treating it like an extra-long vacation at a nice resort, except you do your own cooking and housekeeping. I was determined to enjoy every minute.

When the two years were up, our friends decided to extend their contract another year. That suited us fine and we stayed in the house. When the third year was up, they extended again. So did we.

But now, the jig’s up. They’re coming back to Canada and need to sell the house so they can buy another. They got an offer we dare not match. So be it. Fair enough.

We house-shopped for about three weeks and settled on one we could both live with. He loves the garage and I love the kitchen. My writing space will have all day sun exposure. It will be a shorter walk to work when I’m not too lazy to do it. And we will never have to spit toothpaste into the same sink at the same time again. Unless we want to.

 
I’m excited for possession date to arrive. Packing has begun and since we’re moving to a pretty compact house by comparison, some stuff is just gonna have to go. While it’s good to get rid of junk before someone else is forced to do it for you, going through your old stuff is an exercise in time travel. I find myself lost in a world that no longer exists, looking at old photos or reading things I wrote decades ago. And I’m torn over the craziest items. Do I keep this dress from my high school choir days? Well, seriously, who else would want it? What about my collection of decorative tins? They haven’t been unpacked for four years, I can obviously survive quite nicely without them. To the thrift shop they go. 

I used Facebook to help me decide about my collection of antique high school texts of Shakespearean plays, most with fountain-pen notations in the margins, some going back to 1918. To my surprise, my daughter (the Queen of de-cluttering and downsizing) is interested in them! 

Well, that settles it. The “keep” pile.

Most of all, I’m struck by the reminders of God’s faithfulness through the years. The choir dress represents a host of Christian teachers and fellow students who invested in me way back when. Most of the playbooks were a loving gift from a dear friend and member of the church drama team I led for 20 years. The various articles and stories I wrote over the years tell of heartaches, blessings, challenges, and growth.

God has had his hand on my life and it’s good to remember. It’s too easy to get caught up in the worry of NOW, forgetting that he is eternal. He has always provided, always protected, and always led the way with grace and mercy. I can move into the next phase with every assurance that he always will.

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