Moving

My aunt and uncle and cousin moved into town today.   What a joy to have more family in town!  We spent most of the day hauling their belongings up and down stairs and trying not to put nicks in their brand new walls.   I say trying because I personally helped take a chunk out of one of their ceilings with what I swear is the tallest bookcase I’ve ever seen.  Sorry.  I’ll come help paint it.  At one point in the day when we were surrounded by cardboard and wrapping I asked my husband if we did in fact really want to personally move.  I hate moving.  The entire process is unsettling, exhausting and overwhelming.  I remember when we moved last time, eleven years ago, that I swore I’d never do it again.  Foolish thing to swear something like that.   Our house has been on the market for five weeks now.  We’ve had two people look at it.    Today my uncle looked around at the mess and said “This is a very good day”.   How right he is.

When we were in Rwanda most of the team went and visited a new settlement of people just down the road from where we were working.  Several months earlier their homes had been destroyed in a mud slide.   They were relocated to a new field and the government provided each family with a tarp.  That’s right.  A tarp.  Since then, these families had scrounged up some sheet metal and random wood pieces to form house like structures.   Some of them are working on building new one room mud floor houses. When they move into their new house, they will take their tarp with them.

In light of that comparison I promise that when we do get a buyer that I will cheer.   I will try to remember to be more grateful than grumbling when I’m packing the boxes.   I want to smile as I carry them upstairs.    If I don’t, please remind me that it is a very good day.