You forget what you own until you begin packing your home into boxes. Suddenly closets and corners contain things you forgot you knew you had.
Packing is taxing though. On the emotional side of things it is probably more taxing than we let on. We are saying goodbye to a home. Goodbye to a life. Goodbye to people we love and a place that has been good to us.
For now, though, it is still fun. There is a home waiting for us in the midwest. There is Christmas around the corner. There is family who will be eager to welcome us into their arms once more and into their lives more often.
But when January rolls around the storyline may change. As snow sits half-melted from yesterday, as it refreezes today, as the skies are grey upon grey upon grey, and as the chill bites in at the windows and nips at our bones…
That’s when I think we’ll begin to fully feel it. The routine will return, but it will be a whole new routine. Family will be a few hours away. The house will have it’s idiosyncrasies. Work will have it’s stress. New friendships will have their awkward unfamiliarity. Life will have its mundane-ness back. And friends will be missed along with sunshine on impossibly warm winter days, the promise of hearing the ocean, and good Mexican food.
It’s just so important that life is bigger than these things. Better than these things. Our intimacy, our anticipation, our comforting warmth, and our sense of home have to come from the God who has promised he is all those things, but who is often relegated to the forgotten closets and corners of our lives until we begin peering into them and rediscover him.
The goodbyes will be difficult. They’ve hardly begun. But they just may be leading to the right hellos.
“Hello, Father. I think I've been a bit distracted. Can we talk?”