Tuesday, February 26, 2013
How moving is sort of like childbirth
Let me introduce you to my recently dubbed "moving jeans." They are, or used to be, cute skinny jeans, but are now so thrashed that they are super comfy for working around the house. I have lost track of the number of days I have worn these in a row. I have also fashionably paired them with either my Mumford & Sons concert tee as seen above (because it's comforting to know those guys are helping me pack), or a recent purchase from the men's department in Target, a bright green Guinness tee. I myself can't stand beer, but my husband digs Guinness. I just dig green. This has been my uniform and so I can't exit the car at school during drop off or pick up because someone might spy this ensemble being repeated a socially unacceptable number of times in a row.
Moving is like childbirth because you conveniently forget how horrible it is when it is happening. And because you don't really remember what it's like, you decide to do it again and again.
Well, I guess it's not the forgetting, exactly, that makes you want to move again or have another baby. It's the remembering of all the good reasons you chose it in the first place. The good just far overshadows the horrible process you have to go through to get there. And so our polarized memories tell us, "It wasn't that bad," when, yeah, it totally absolutely was. I remember a few weeks ago telling my husband, "Moving won't be bad at all! We don't have that much stuff." Well guess what. I was very, very wrong. In reality, it's sort of appalling at how much stuff we have. I've never moved with kids before, so unearthing all the stuff that my kids alone have has been dizzying in an of itself.
Moving is not my favorite because chaos is not my favorite. Having every surface strewn with random junk that doesn't fit into any category of box is the definition of chaos, I think. And the thought that every box that gets packed also has to get UNPACKED down the line.....I can't even think about that yet. It has been a blurry, dusty past week.
What I want to think about is the good that will eventually overshadow this tedious packing ordeal. I know in my mind that the fruit of this labor will be so sweet that one day, the labor will seem as nothing at all. Totally insignificant. That's what fixing our eyes on Jesus means, I believe. The places He brings us are sometimes at the end of harrowing, difficult roads. But the rewards at the end are so satisfying that the road and it's troubles are quickly forgotten.
But for now, I'm treating myself to make it through. Girl Scout cookies. Lots and lots of iced tea. And today, an amazing new album by Penny and Sparrow on repeat.
And before I head to bed, I wanted to thank you for all your kind words on my last post regarding our move. I am so grateful for your prayers, and your words of encouragement mean so much. Seriously, every single word. Thank you friends. My struggles through this time of transition are being eased by your generous kindness. I'd give you each a big hug if I could.
Labels: the big move