Where are we? What the hell is going on?
The dust has only just begun to fall,
Crop circles in the carpet, sinking, feeling.
Moving is a series of major events squished together into one short time period. It’s not just that you are physically moving your body to another place to then inhabit another location altogether, it is ALL. THE. THINGS. It is the hundreds of goodbyes you say to friends, neighbors, routines and familiarity and a house that you made a home.
Oily marks appear on walls
Where pleasure moments hung before.
The takeover, the sweeping insensitivity of this still life.
It’s the combing through of all your possessions, from the leather sectional sofa that you live your life on right down to the half used roll of scotch tape and the only picture you have of you and that old friend in middle school. It’s the staging of your home that is normally lived in by a messy family of five to look as though it is lived in by very tidy ghosts who will disappear at the first sight of clutter. It is holding your breath till the end of the day just to see if you can get it all done, accomplish all the things, and plan for the things that will come.
Spin me 'round again and rub my eyes. This can't be happening.
When busy streets amass with people would stop to hold their heads heavy.
And for this mama, it is holding the hand of three small ones who have no idea the gravity of the situation they face or are about to walk through whether they want to or not.
Hide and seek.
Trains and sewing machines. All those years they were here first.
Then there is the actual transition. The moving from one place to another physically. For us it was a two day journey from Colorado to Texas with me, the three boys and our cat in our minivan and Tom, with everything we own, in a moving truck, hauling our car. Every stop was weighted by the fact that all we had was in the parking lot, plus a cat who we hoped would not die in the car, in 95 degree heat, while we took a 20 minute pee break. It’s waking up every hour in our hotel in Amarillo, tiptoeing around three pack and plays and four sleeping boys to peer out the window and check the parking lot to make sure that those evil robbers out there had not taken everything, including my British kitty. They didn’t and everything was fine, but you get the stress, right?
Hide and seek.
Trains and sewing machines. Oh, you won't catch me around here...
Blood and tears, hearts, They were here first.
After arriving at your new destination, you have to go through the unpacking, unloading, figuring out your new rhythms, and new places to shove all the things that for some reason three days ago you couldn’t live without and now you are questioning your judgement on all the things in life because you decided to keep the picture and throw the roll of tape. It’s figuring out where the cheapest gas station is, the nearest and friendliest coffee shop, and getting used to humidity and heat again.
I spent an hour at the grocery store just trying to find a few items that would have normally taken me seven minutes at my old store. It’s kind of like putting on a shirt after it changed shape in the wash, it might still look OK if you change everything else you're wearing to make it work, but you will always wish it was the way it was when you bought it, because this just doesn’t feel right.
Ransom notes keep falling out your mouth.
Mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cut-outs.
Speak no feeling, no I don't believe you.
You don't care a bit. You don't care a bit.
I always feel a general sense of melancholy when I move. I have done it several times now in my adult life and it makes me a little sad, but mostly I feel frantic, out-of-sorts and hazey. I feel like things are in high-speed and then slow-motion, I think about all the relationships I left behind and wonder if they will ever think about me again, and then doubt it. I think about all the things that I could have said better, done better, left better in order to make the best possible exit and I doubt myself. I feel reluctant to start again, still feeling the pain of relationships recently altered, thinking that I don’t have anything more to offer a person or to receive. And then there is exhaustion that sets in and I just want to lay on the floor and stare at the ceiling.
Mmm, what you say?
Mm, that you only meant well? Well, of course you did.
Mmm, what you say?
Mm, that it's all for the best? Of course it is.
Mmm, what you say?
Mm, that it's just what we need? And you decided this.
What you say?
Mmm, what did She say?
There is the side of me that sings this song along with Imogen Heap, with all the melodrama in the world. I allow my heart to feel the sadness and ask all the questions. Is this the right thing? Is this what God really wants? But I think moving is supposed to be hard. There is supposed to be suffering to go along with it because we are making a cut, an alteration, a change. And change is hard.
The other side of me gets it. My heart is full of anticipation of what God is going to do and where this adventure will take us. I am excited about how He is going to impact our family, my boys in particular. I am totally uncertain of the future but I am sure of God’s call and that He who called us is faithful.
I have been in hiding, trying to cope privately with, what has turned out to be a very difficult transition for me. I haven’t been able to face Facebook, or Instagram filter the happenings of my days because I am just kinda sad. But even in this time where I crawl into my bear cave, I will seek Jesus. I will see him work in me as the ground shifts beneath my feet and I will reach for his hand to hold me steady. Because the one of the great things about My God is that He is unchanging. This doesn’t phase him at all. So I can also sing this song:
To have a listen to Imogen Heap sing Hide and Seek, click here.