Read, Write, Love, Repeat

Moving is something I never wanted to do again.  Never thought I would do it again.  And yet here we are.  In my year-long odyssey of constant beyond-my-control change, relocation is now thrown into the mix.  Not just across town, mind you, but across time zones to a state neither of us have ever lived. Terrifying and so so exciting.  A wild ride is about to begin.

I find myself at the beginning of this major mountain to climb, so many things to consider.  This is a huge deal for me, as I haven’t moved a lot in my life.  The majority of my 49 years (with the exception of 2 school years in Portland for college) have been spent within 75 miles of where I sit at this moment.  But that’s all about to change.

Part of the process will be sorting through 16 years of being in this home.  Here, our place has been comfort, and anchor, a place of safety for us all.  Familiar and filled with family.

But something new is in the works, something for which we must create space.  So we do.  Setting aside what is most important for us to carry into the future, what we’ve carried too long, what we can pass on to bless others.  Shedding that which no longer works, choosing lightness.  Determining what will serve us well, what can be left here for someone else.  a perfect analogy for any season of change, really.

I’m looking at it with very broad brushstrokes here at the beginning of a wacky ride (and you’re all invited, of course), trying to decide how to tackle this journey.

 There will be many parts to work through.  The sheer volume of stuff from a family of 4 that has to be sorted is daunting.

Then there’s the task of deciding what Grace will need to keep here in CA for college (where she will be heading in August), what she wants us to take to our new home to keep for her there, which leads my heart to what I will do when I actually drive far, far away from where my baby girl lives…too many things to think through, but I can’t really allow myself to take every part of that on this minute.  I can’t do a firehose of emotion, maybe a medicine dropper.

This brings me back to last week’s blog about living life NOT as a Soul Sherpa who drags everything along behind her, but living lighter.  We have employed (and are employing) the disciplines of listening and letting go as we go down this path, truly.  This is, as are so many things, an exercise in trust.  I knowing that God loves me and has His eye on me regardless of where I sleep at night.

So this week I packed my first box. And this week we told some of our close friends that we’re beginning this journey.  So it’s getting really real.  And I’ve experienced the full range of human emotion as a result. I’m sideswiped by the sadness of leaving a lifetime of connections here, but so excited to see what lies ahead.  I’m overwhelmed at the idea of going someplace I’ve never lived, learning to call it

home.  But I know that home is waiting for me there; for me and my family.

We’ve weighed the pro’s and con’s, prayed, thought, tried to find another way around this step for quite some time, but here it is back in front of us.  And all the doors seem to be opening.  I will, with confidence and joy, choose to look forward to what God has planned!  And then there’s the other people who we love that we leave behind.  Again, can’t do the firehose of emotion…

I’m reminded of the Israelites leaving Egypt, not knowing AT ALL what to expect from the journey they were about to begin, not knowing at all where they would end up, but led by God’s presence, provided for all the way.  May I not be one who forgets, like the Israelites, all of God’s providence and care.  May I not grumble along the way.  May I buckle up and enjoy the wild ride.

They tell me the stars at night are big and bright deep in the heart of Texas.  I can’t wait to see for myself, seated in a new back yard on the patio swing my sweet dad made for me years ago.