The first time I moved out of state was when I was around the age of 6 weeks. Needless to say, it was probably the least traumatic of all my moves. Since then I have lived in 5 different states, 2 different countries, and I have lived in 13 different homes. You would think I would have some mad packing skills by now, but no. The truth is that I’m too cheap to buy the right sized boxes and we find ourselves in ridiculous situations with my comforter duct taped around the TV. True story.
A year and a half ago we had a big move from Idaho to Kentucky. I have done many big moves, but not as a mother. As it turns out, the temptation to worry and stress during a big move is greatly multiplied when you are the one responsible for everything. Who knew?!
I moved to Louisville without ever visiting, and knowing exactly two people in the whole city. I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I should probably spend some time here giving you organizational tips and pricing trucks and whatnot, but let’s be honest, we already know that I’m terrible at that and who cares anyway. I didn’t know how to move across the country practically, and on a practical level, I still have no clue. Just buy a lot of tape a couple weeks before the move.
The summer that we left Moscow was insanely crazy. I had a stress headache for 3 months. I remember standing on the gravel driveway that led to my parents guest house, where we were camping out for a month while we figured out our life and let Jon recover from some debilitating health issues. I looked over at my three year old Darcy playing in the trees, searching for lady bugs. I didn’t know where we would be moving or when, but I told the Lord right then that I would enjoy it, and I promised to make the most of wherever He led us. I knew exactly how to do a move the wrong way. I knew how to be stressed out and tired and worried and compare the new city with the old city and the new friends with the old friends and the new house with the old house. I knew how to complain. I knew how to look backwards at all the things I had left behind, instead of looking forward in the story. And I knew that my discontent would stream down from me, quickly and undistilled, to my daughters. So I told the Lord, whatever this new chapter held, I would be thankful for it and I would enjoy it.
That’s really my only moving tip. Moving to a new city is just a changing chapter in your story. Don’t look back and wish you were still in chapter 3 when God has moved you on to chapter 4 and maybe even 5.
To be honest, I have hardly had to try to keep that promise to the Lord. It’s sort of like telling someone you will eat whatever they serve you and then they give you Creme Brûlée. We have been surrounded by so many gifts here. We have already been led through many changes in our family since we arrived, but each one has been wonderful! The truth is, there is no place in this world that will be my forever home. Christ is king of all of it, and in Him, it all belongs to us.
So here is my hot tip: start duct taping things together, pray they don’t break on the truck, and then determine to enjoy the new chapter. And just wait to see what kind of goodness will come overflowing.