Packing Up

When my wife and I moved from our first home (a double-wide mobile home). All of our worldly possessions could fit into a $19.95/day Uhaul truck. We did not have much that was our own and when we decided to move, we sold most of our furniture. Now the very idea of packing up our home (besides the emotional grieving of distance from our family and friends) is overwhelming. Simply contemplating how to box up the garage, I feel like the little girl who tries to eat a whale in Shel Silverstein's book of poems, Where the Sidewalk Ends. After all, the stuff we collect grows to fill (and over flow) the space we have available. So, I sit blogging instead of sorting. Reading instead of packing. It is actually kind of fun to simplify and downsize. Why do I think I need so much in life? Like Steve Martin's character in The Jerk, I hold on to the most obscure stuff; a thermos, a lamp, and for me its a collection of tin 50's memorabilia signs and a Darth Vader Slurpee collectors cup... I guess the really important stuff is not stuff at all. Its the people you get to do life with. The most important ones go with you and the rest can visit. Most of all, the moments of laughter and weeping, and times of outrageous fun and conversations of such depth. Our sharing of the very fabric of our lives and the substance of our souls, never really gets packed up or left behind. It all goes with us because it has left an indelible mark on our mind and a permanent impression on our hearts. That's what I will miss most. Its the frequency and proximity that I will mourn. But, my life has been changed and shaped by the people I've traveled with along the way. So much of those divine conversations and god-moments has been recorded in my journals. Now if I could only find those so I can pack them...