There is something about moving that casts light on the curious balance between material goods serving to make our life better and materials good serving as our life. The hours and hours of sweat that it takes to put all of our things into boxes makes you ask practical questions like "Do I really need this?" while at the same causing you think about all the memories attached to these objects; all the moments in life that they represent and that they may represent one day. Yep, it's a curious balance indeed, but if there is anything that packing our things has caused me to realize over the last couple of days, it is that your life can't fit inside a bunch of cardboard boxes and be hauled on a truck across the country. Life is about the people and the places and the experiences and the love and the faith in something bigger than us. The "stuff" can play an important role, but it's not life itself. I would gladly leave all these boxes of stuff behind and start completely anew if that's what I had to do to get to Gearry and the puppies. My life is not in these boxes... It's already waiting for me in Georgia.
Yesterday, my friend Katie, who was in visiting from Chicago, helped me with the arduous task of wrapping every single piece of glass we own (and we have a LOT of stemware) and packing various other things. This morning, an hour after Katie left, Mom arrived to pick up where we'd left off. If I had to guess, I would say I'm about 90% packed. Mom and Dad are coming up tomorrow to pick up the moving truck and to help me finish the packing. Then -- Friday -- comes the incredibly not-so-fun part: loading the moving truck. Thankfully, I am blessed to once again have friends who jump in and say, "Let us help!" Who actually likes to pack/unpack? No one! That means friends that volunteer to help with enthusiasm as though it would be their pleasure are 1) Really good at acting and 2) Really good in general. Between myself, Mom, Dad, Gearry's parents, and a couple guys from camp, I hope we can knock it out relatively efficiently.