Can I follow Monday’s post up with a post about moving anxiety? Okay thanks.
It’s Wednesday morning and the rain is tapping noisily on my window. I’m sipping my coffee with special almond cashew creamer as Caedmon lays in the other room watching Little Einsteins. This is the only way I will get some me time in this morning because the cat woke him up with his obnoxious morning song just moments after my feet hit the floor at 6AM.
We have a termite and septic inspection today and then an overall home inspection tomorrow. Last night the kids helped with this by coloring all over the dining room area while I was busy getting dinner in the oven.
Then just before bed, Caedmon clogged the bathroom sink with toilet paper and ran the water until it overflowed onto the counter.
We move in three weeks and I have only three boxes packed, just three. Kel works every evening this week and is out of town next week for an extremely exciting job interview.
When he gets home from the interview we will have only two weeks until the big move… and … Dang… That’s not a lot of time to uproot a family of four after five years of settling into every nook and cranny.
You have no idea how desperately I want to hide in the closet with a book and pretend that all this pressing work of sorting and packing isn’t looming over me like an evil piñata.
My Pastor Zac has a phrase that always comes to mind when I’m facing overwhelming tasks: How am I going to get it done? The same way I would eat an elephant: One bite at a time.
I have no doubts that I’ll be a mess of crazy as we load the truck, I’ll try to hide it with bad jokes and nervous laughter but I’ll be on the verge of stress tears. I’ll be giving things away left and right and throwing crap through the back door like a madwoman, anything to be done packing.
Yet I know that the moment will come when we pull the truck away with bittersweet tears and begin the slow, three day journey from one home to another, it will get done one way or another.
And I know something else, they’re just boxes and it’s just stuff, only a few things in this house matter and the rest can be replaced at Target or thrift stores.
Last night as I tucked Caedmon into bed he requested I sing him Amazing Grace and as I did he surprised me by knowing every word of the first two verses. I melted into a puddle as his beautiful, tiny two-year old voice sang those words along with me.
Tis Grace that brought be safe thus far, and Grace will lead me home.
Grace will lead us home, Grace will pack the boxes, Grace will load the truck…
The tiny little man in the crib is what’s real, the rest of it’s just boxes. One step at a time, one bite at a time we will gracefully eat the elephant that is our big move.
Oh Praise the one who causes the baby sing and the Pastor use ridiculous metaphors.
How do you tackle the big stresses? Any moving tips? Will you all be my moving support team for the next three weeks and be okay with my crazy?