ten moves in ten years

On the 2^nd of July, 2002, I heaved my burgundy Jansport backpack over my shoulders, hugged my family goodbye, and boarded a plane en route to Cape Town, South Africa.

My plan was to stay for six months.

But you know what Proverbs 16:9 says – “In his heart a man plans his course, but the Lord determines his steps.”

As it turned out, the steps determined for me in South Africa did not fit concisely into the second half of the calendar.

Ten and a half years later, on a January afternoon in the Cape Town airport, I heaved that same burgundy Jansport backpack over my eldest son’s shoulders.  Then I slipped a pink princess backpack onto my daughter’s back before securing my youngest son’s bag squarely onto his six-year-old shoulders.  Two more laptop backpacks for my husband and I to account for, plus twelve stuffed-to-the-brim suitcases, and we were a sight to be seen.

We were making the great trek across the Atlantic, and we were that family that everybody else prayed they wouldn’t get behind in the queue.

That day, our lives were packed into seventeen snugly zipped bags.  We were used to it.  Backpacks, boxes, black bags … we  were experienced veterans in the packing war.

This airport scene?  It wasn’t the first time we’d moved.  Not even the second or the third, in fact.  No, the day we zipped those bags marked my tenth move in ten years.

Granted, a handful of those include my bachelorette days and the early months of our marriage before the kids started crawling out of the woodwork.

Many of you can relate.  You know exactly what that feels like.

And to be honest, it can be more than just physically draining, can’t it?

At first, all I wanted was to hang pictures on the walls without fear of our landlord inspecting the drywall at the end of our lease.  To pound a nail into fresh paint and transform a bland house into my signature flavor.

But after bouncing from lily pad to lily pad of rented apartments and long-term house-sitting stints, I soon lost interest in making any effort.  Eventually, just knowing that we would soon be uprooted again stifled my desire to till the soil or plant the seeds.

Sometimes I didn’t even bother to unwrap the scented candles from their swaths of monochromatic newspaper.  In the last few rentals, I even left the framed family photos tucked away in their bubble wrapped boxes, knowing that I would just have to re-wrap them soon again anyway.

We’ve been in our current abode for eight months now, and after a full decade of seemingly continuous moves, I finally feel like my hesitant and lax attitude toward ‘settling’ is gradually improving.

Regardless of how long or short our stay might be, this place is one of the steps that the Lord has determined for us.  Even if there may be several pit stops and a vast array of camping sites while we remain in our earthly tents, where we ‘camp’ now is one more step determined for us in the steady walk towards home.

May He teach us to number our days aright, to make the most of every opportunity, and — whether we’re packing or unpacking — to acknowledge that “this is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it” (Psalm 118:24).

This is Day 10 of ‘Defining Home in 31 Days.’  To see a list of all the posts in this series, click here. 

Photo credits: Andy Li and Claire P.

reflections on a move

a few days into our transition from Cape Town to Western Michigan in January, here are a few observations that have come to the surface as oddities and un-familiarities we never knew in sunny SA

last week we were wearing shorts and flip flops, eating pap, boerewors and chakalaka

now, we find ourselves in

a land where kids know what snow pants are

frostbite is familiar

and car batteries freeze

a land with plugs in the bathroom

and heat emanating from indoor vents

while icicles hang stoically from the roof’s edge

tortilla chips and salsa

squirt, dr. pepper, root beer

reese’s peanut butter cups and chocolate chip cookies

where jelly is Jell-o and jam is jelly

and boots are trunks and bonnets are hoods

a land of drive-thru banks and pharmacies

self-scan grocery aisles and pump your own gas

a land of comfort and convenience

and cold

boxes in the sky

Well, it’s that time again.

Packing time.

This marks my ninth move in ten years.

Perhaps the most time consuming aspect of this exercise is sorting through all the goods we have accumulated and having to decide which are precious enough to occupy space and weight in our luggage, which are worthy to be boxed and stacked in storage, which will be relinquished to the giveaway pile, and which are doomed for the dumpster.

And every time I face these decisions, my mind wanders to Matthew 6:19-21 –

“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal.  But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal.  For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

Then I realize one truth: That no matter which lot my material possessions receive in the sorting and packing process, they all have the same destiny.

Not one of them will enter into eternity.

Exactly a year ago, I blogged about a quote from the film, ‘Eat, Pray, Love.’

In the movie, the main character, Liz Gilbert, decides to spend a year traveling to Italy, India and Bali. Before she leaves, she boxes up all of her worldly possessions and packs them into a rented storage unit. As the employee is about to close the garage door, Liz sighs and says forlornly, “My whole life fits into a 12×12 box.”

The mover rolls his eyes and says condescendingly, “Lady? You know how many times I hear people say that in a week? And most of ’em don’t come back for their ‘whole life.'”

How true this is.  In fact, I was one of those people pulling down the sliding garage door on a storage unit full of possessions just over a year ago.  Now, just fourteen months later, I can’t say I can even remember what lies on the concrete floor behind that rickety door.

So while I spend my time packing here and tossing there, I will do well to remember that when Christ comes,

… there will be no boxes in the sky.