If you count summers in college, I have moved exactly 19 times in my adult life. I mean pack up your washer and dryer, load everything you own into a truck, and drive across town or across the country. That’s not including the near 100 moves during my year on the World Race. I slept in 89 beds that year alone.
I should be a pro at this moving thing, but somehow I always get distracted by shinier things. I start out putting candles in a box, and then discover the pretty candleholder, realize it really needs to be polished, and then I can’t find the cloth, but I DO find an old journal, and I read about one of a hundred boys I’ve filled pages with, and, “I wonder whatever happened to him?” Next thing you know I’m doing some research (read: stalking) on Facebook and after two hours of the perfect blonde wife, white picket fence, curly haired kids, and a golden retriever, well, I need a glass of wine and a candlelit bath. Wait, candles…where did I put those again?
So this time I bit the bullet and hired movers. I would highly recommend this route.
I still packed up all my own candles, but they loaded the truck, stored everything for two weeks, and then showed up to unload at 9:00 on Friday morning. I stood outside and directed traffic.
Blue room. White room. Bedroom two. Front bedroom. Master. Master. Master.
And when the truck pulled away three hours later we got to work opening boxes, sliding furniture, stacking dishes, and creating a home.
I think my guy friends were the most relieved. Matt. Braedon. Mark. Mike and Michael. No, I don’t need you to pick up a piano. Nope, you don’t need to touch a mattress. Yes, I think that washer and dryer are going to move themselves.
There was nothing for anybody to do.
And yet, as excited as I was to not require my friends’ services, when the week of the move came I was sad I didn’t need them. Sad that there was no reason for them to show up with doughnuts and paper plates, no scrambling to find keys or a box for all the leftovers at the last minute.
So I sent them this text message:
We’re moving into our new house on Friday! We have movers doing the heavy lifting but would love for you to drop by and make things more exciting! You can unpack a box, hang a picture or just keep us entertained. We know we’re a little farther south than you usually trek, but it will become familiar.
And Friday night, after most of the boxes had been emptied (if not yet put away), they pulled up in a mini-van. Cindy and Allison. Mark and Caroline and Ms. Patti. We gave them the tour and then they pulled out two giant pizza boxes. We sat on couches and the floor and ate pizza over paper towels. The next day we ate half-baked cookies with Katie and Ashley and burned our mouths on the still gooey dough. They said, “I thought we could at least unpack a box or something” and I said, “I just wanted you to be here.”
I’m not always good at asking for help. And I’m probably even worse at asking for presence. But on a Friday night in a new house, in a new town, in a new season of life…I’ve never been more grateful.