The phrase, a moving experience, may equal tender tears, stomach acid-churning crisis, or exhilarating inspiration. It may also mean that after living in my home eleven years, without planning to move, while collecting enough treasures that one grandchild calls my home the Topliff Museum, I found myself eliminating, moving, and consolidating into a smaller space. Yikes!
What about you. What recent voluntary (or involuntary) event has been a moving experience for you?
In the process, I got reacquainted with the books stacked three-deep on my crowded shelves. I’m rereading some to see which I can part with--only one so far--sigh.
It’s also true that one broken 30-year-old broken pacemaker lead created an emergency condition--surgical replacement five days before the move. Yes, I’d done prepacking, but experienced exhaustion I understand now. I’m thankful God kept me and that tiredness isn’t a permanent condition.
Unexpectedly two people cheerfully stepped in to take over packing and lifting. One drove five hours each way. Another 37 miles across town had attended a mutual church years ago and on Facebook saw I was moving and needed surgery. She volunteered--three days so far. The result? Rekindled friendships reminding me I love people even more than books!
New house, new scenery, and building new memories. Yes, moving was hard with some sense of loss. I’m not entirely unpacked, but am looking forward to the fresh things God will do. I’m already seeing some.
There’s a stream out back, and a wooded park beyond. For the past two days, a marvelous great egret has come dipping and flapping, threatening Mallards and Canada Geese away, exerting territorial claims. Inside the house, my grandchildren are happy. My son says my presence helps. I’m changing some familiar decorating patterns, rearranging book collections on shelves, and taking my time. Some walls need painting. I’m shopping for the right curtains and rods.
All in all it's a moving experience--one kindling fresh interests to keep me young.