Apparently, I love moving.
Over the past 9 years, I have moved a total of 10 times. TEN.
That means, every year, there has been at least 1 move.
You would think I’d be an expert by now, right? Definitely not.
While I have been growing and developing in the arena of cardboard box loading, labeling, organizing, and subsequent transfer of goods… it still is such an ordeal every time.
No matter how organized or energetic I might be at the beginning of each move, somehow, I always end up: A) tossing everything in the trash or giving things away just so I don’t have to pack it (anybody with me on that one?), or B) totally foregoing any sense of organization while I dump everything near me in the same box. Most of the time, it’s a combination of both A & B
Over Memorial Day weekend, Brandon and I, and a couple of our AWESOME friends moved our things out of our apartment and into my extremely gracious in-laws’ garage (see picture).
We have been camping out in our bare-bone apartment (along with our cats) for this week as I finish out the school year where I teach. While it feels a little funny to continue on with our “normal” life without a table, chairs, couch, bed, etc., I feel like I’ve loved this last week in our place just a little more because of it.
While change is exciting, and things like moving to another country is clearly an adventure I’m excited about, there is a bit of me (and I’d dare say in each one of us), that clings on to the familiar. The comfortable. The routine. I’ve had to work through that this past week as I’ve made my coffee in the morning, staring out at what has been our cozy home for the past year, thinking that things will not be the same.
And that’s the truth. Our expectations should never be for things to always remain the same.
Transition and change come with both happiness and excitement, and some sadness and goodbyes. However, it’s a sign of something good, something sacred, when that bittersweet feeling is present. It signifies that you have lived and fully allowed yourself to be present in that area, job, season and place you’re living and investing in for that time. It would be sad if I didn’t have a little bit of nostalgia looking at where our bookshelf used to be, or where my favorite giant clock used to hang on the wall. And even sadder if I didn’t blink twice in saying goodbye to those friends, family, and community that have been so dear and important to us during this time.
So, as we’re packing up the rest of our things this Saturday, moving to our transitional home with my in-laws before our flight takes off at the end of July, I have to remind myself to embrace both sides of what a move/life change entails. It’s during this weird, funny limbo between “homes” and realizing that the very thing you need is already packed away (toothpaste, cookie sheets, clothes, your keys) that there is a choice to make in how you respond.
I could insert any number of inspirational quotes found on Pinterest on looking ahead and not behind, of expecting the best, new beginnings, and so on, but, the truth is that transitions are hard at times, and that’s okay. However, reflecting on WHY we are doing what we’re doing, and WHO ordained for us to be in this place is what ultimately brings that sense of peace and purpose in those awkward times.
So, in my 11th and 12th move to take place in the next few months, I welcome it.
All of it.