Family, Friends & Boxes - Moving Journal #10

I don't necessarily recommend planning a vacation when you're in the midst of a move, but then again, it was a wonderful opportunity to take a break from the packing and the constant planning in my head of what to put where. My two daughters, one son-in-law, and a selection of four of my grandchildren drove to Philadelphia for a wonderful couldn't-have-been-better visit for a family event, and a day with dear friends. We drove the 14 hours both ways through the night, taking turns sleeping, caravaning in two cars, keeping in touch with cell phones for when we needed to make a stop: "Gotta get gas"..."Gotta pee"..."We're hungry," etc. I admit it was a very long drive and there were times I just didn't want to do it anymore.


Meanwhile, back at home, my dear friend Nancy was good enough to come and stay with Lizzie who, being a dog, has no idea why there are boxes everywhere and things are not as they have always been, though I have certainly tried to explain it to her. Still, she continues to look worried.

While I was gone, Nancy carried on the packing of my many books which has taken more time than packing everything else. She even went in search of boxes and discovered that the best source of book packing boxes can be found in auto supply stores. Those boxes that ship motor oil are the perfect size for books. The day I got back we went to various stores in search of more boxes. I've learned that coming just after noon and before three o'clock is the best time to obtain empty boxes of all sizes, just after they've unloaded them and before they crush them - a piece of miscellany that could prove very useful if you're planning to move.

Nancy has continued to come and help pack, for which I am most grateful. I am somewhat organizationally challenged - confusion tends to render me ...well, confused (did I mention that before?).  And like with the driving from Philly, I sometimes just don't want to continue to do this anymore. Giving up, in either case, has not been an option.

Terri came the first day and got me started, and then came yesterday afternoon, along with Sandy, in time for a quickie supper of chicken wings, rice and salad -- my last friends-for-dinner (one of my favorite things to do) in this home. They did an amazing job of getting the whole kitchen packed. Who knew there was all that stuff under the kitchen sink?

It's a true friend who will come and help you pack, filling boxes with paper wrapped items and securing box after box with tape. Doing it together is a bonding experience - (pun intended). I'm sure there are special rewards in heaven for such folks.



Attempted Categories -- Moving Journal #9

Boxes. When in need of boxes do not ask the manager of the supermarket. Go to the produce guy. He will load you up with apple and banana boxes. You need different kinds of boxes for different stuff. Small ones for books or they get too heavy. That's where the Dollar Store dumpstser boxes are good. Waxed boxes are pretty ugly but will serve for things that could spill, like cleaning supplies or food, not that I'm up to packing food yet.

Packing the books in categories turns out to be more tedius than I expected. Some categories are clearly more defined than others, but what category do you put something like "The Psychology of Jesus" in? Is that NT teachings, Jesus or counseling? Do I put "The Uses of the Old Testament in the New" in OT or NT? Not all have to do with God. There's my books on quilting, beading and knitting. Admittedly I do more looking at the pictures than I do any quilting, beading or knitting. Then there are books like "In Praise of Slowness: Challenging the Cult of Speed." I must find some time to finish that book one day. I found books I forgot I had. And others I've had for decades I'm rather attached to like old friends.

In my quest for categorizing my books, first I made piles on the floor. It quickly became too many categories, which meant more piles, and as I added to the piles, they didn't stay stacked due to being of varying sizes, and so the piles soon began to slouch over into each other. About that time, one 14 pound fluffy white ball of bounding enthusiasm named Lizzy (see photo) paid me a visit and that pretty much obliterated most of the deliniations between the categories. So much for that idea. 

I guess I'll put them more in categories on the unpacking end.

  

Old Letters & Books... Moving Journal #8

I've begun packing now that I have the Dollar Store boxes. I began with kitchen items and serving pieces I doubt I'll have any use for between now and the move. It was a start.

Then I began to dissessemble my office. I have books and more books. I think they spore when I'm not looking. When I moved last time my grandson Zander (e.g. Alexander) got the other grandkids to put the books in the shelves while he set up my computer. They unloaded all my books and within two hours after arriving, my office was all functional. Only they just shoved the books in the shelves more or less by size, oblivious to my personal  requirement to actually know where a book is. I would have set them up by sub-topics within topics, such as: Israel: Biblical history; modern history; language; heroes; literature, etc. But I never rearranged them. So each time I need a book, which I frequently do for research purposes, I have to search for it.  This time I'm going to pack them in categories so when Project Manager Zander has the kids set my office up again, I'll be able to locate what I need easily.

     In the process of dissesembling parts of the office, I came upon a folder of my son's letters that he wrote to me in the days before email. Real letters, with handwriting that would often tell what mood he was in (dreamy and slow, or fast & tense). They were from his Boston University days, from when he moved to Martha's Vineyard for a season, then a brief stint in L.A. until he landed in San Francisco and decided to make it his home. Little by little the letters dwindled off as I recall email taking over. I sat last night for a few hours with a cup of tea, (and okay, yes, a bowl of ice cream too, Mocha Fudge!!) while reading through years of my son's life, 'feeling' with him, remembering, seeing how he was then the person he is now - always the philosopher at heart, a musician, and a people studier.  I'll be sure he gets the letters so he can see that about himself.

     Now that I've decided to tackle packing the books, the biggest challenge is to resist the impulse to stop and read just a paragraph or two. I don't dare sit down with even one, or hours will go by and my ADD distractibility will have won again. OK, Lonnie. Enough writing. Get up and do something productive.

Belonging -- Moving Journal #7

I never realized how much ownership I have of where I live until now that I am about to leave it behind. As I anticipate moving within the next month, I realize I think of the local Publix supermarket as my Publix and the neighborhood drugstore as my drugstore. I picked up a bread at the local Panera’s recently and left feeling that it might have been the last time I bought a challah (braided Sabbath bread) from my Panera’s. And what about the “Curves” workout center? I love my Curves, though I can’t say I actually get there all the time. Still, I feel I belong there. I also have a special feeling for the library near by having spent delightful hours just browsing through other people’s thoughts and ideas. I guess I’ll have to find a new veterinarian closer to my new home to take Lizzie to for her shots or when her tummy isn’t feeling well. And what about where I get my hair cut. Jessica and I have chatted over many a hair cut for a few years. I’m feeling a sense of loss, leaving all this familiarity behind.

Most of all, I’m missing my Mom. Her room is now entirely empty except for one rocking chair that was my Dad’s and the boxes I am now beginning to fill with the kitchen stuff I’ve started to pack. How is it that a person’s belongings, their stuff, lasts longer than they do? I know Mom is in glory with the Lord and my father. She’s enveloped in the joy of the presence of Jesus. So I have no grieving for her plight. It’s just that I miss sharing with her all the newness going on. This is the first time in all my days that I don’t have Mom to share and talk over what new thing is going on in my life. She was always my mother, but when we moved to Florida together on January 1st, 2004, she became my best friend as well. Perhaps this is one of the reasons it’ll be good to move. No more empty spaces that Mom used to fill in our home.

It’s funny about places and how the places change us. When I moved to where I live now, I knew none of the people that are now a part of my days and weeks. Now I think of them as mine, not that anyone at Panera, or the drug store, or Publix even knows my name. Trying to make the emotional transition, I went to the new Publix near where my daughter Ellen lives, which means where I will soon be living as well. I bought a few things and when I went to check out, the cashier looked like her face was glowing. She just radiated joy. There’s generally only one reason someone looks that radiant. I said something to her like, “You look like a blessed person.” She lit up even more if that’s possible. “I am,” she said and began to talk about Jesus and how He’s the reason for her joy. I Amen’d what she had to say, letting her know I’m a believer too. Then I told her, “I’m going to be moving into the area and I came to just check out the new Publix. It’s nice to meet a sister in the Lord here.” An older gentleman was bagging the food as we talked. Turning toward him she said, “This is Sam. He’s a brother in the Lord too.” He smiled a broad cheerful smile and said, “Welcome to our family.”

“We are a family here,” she said, “and we’re glad to welcome you to it.” I’m not sure if she meant the Pubix family or the fellowship of the two of them, as she told had me there are other believers working there as well. So while it’s not my Publix yet, it’s a good beginning toward feeling like I’m about to become part of the new neighborhood. Wherever the people of God are, you’re never an outsider or a newcomer for long.