The Moving Box

I have been married almost 12 years and in that time we have moved 10 times. Prior to 'settling down' I moved in and out of college dorms, apartments, and rental houses for six years through college and part of graduate school (I’m thinking 6+ moves). You would think I would be an expert mover after nearly 20 moves in my lifetime. Ask those who have helped us move. Ask my husband. I am not.

I make a mean to do list and have utopic visions of the best possible moving day scenario dancing in my head. Unfortunately, somewhere between the arrival of the packing boxes and the day of the move it slowly falls apart and we are dashing about cramming, dumping, and jamming. The dream of a uniform tower of color coded boxes stacked neatly in the hall just waiting for the kindly moving men to come fetch them turns into the reality of chaos. Next time, I say, next time I will get this right.

You see in my life there will probably be a next time. As a spouse of a United Methodist minister we are a part of the itinerant appointment system. We go when and where we are told to go. So I expect there will be more moves in my future somewhere down the line.

In the beginning it was just Kevin and I moving and it was kind of exhilarating to me. In a weird way it satisfied my travel itch, because if you think about it moving every year it is like going on a long trip. The suitcases are just bigger. I felt adventurous and courageous to be living life our own way.

Yet, slowly grown-up life has seeped in with the birth of our daughters. Now these moves have implications far beyond my personal preferences. So I got my special box.

This special box can hold anything up to about 20lbs. If I start to worry about our girls liking a new room, home, school, church I just stuff it in my box. If I get sad thinking about people I will miss I just stuff it in my box. If I get worried about finances and changing employment for myself I just cram it in the box. If I get nervous about the church Kevin will be serving I just dump it in the box. If I worry about making friends or if people will like me it just goes in the box. Sometimes it gets really full, even to the point of bulging, but I keep stuffing it in.

However, when we get to our new house and the unpacking begins my special box stays firmly attached to me. As I unpack other boxes and take on the task of setting up a home I sometimes find new things to jam in my special box. Eventually all those things cling to me, become a part of me. You see for the last seven years with each move I gain about 20lbs.

That special box is really my mouth as I attempt to abate my fears, stresses, and those feelings of being completely overwhelmed by eating. I have battled my weight most of my life and after giving birth to two large, beautiful babies it has been especially hard. I gained enough weight with each pregnancy to give birth to a 12 year old instead I birthed two adorable 9-ish pound infants. The math was not in my favor.

Slowly as I get comfortable and gain my footing after a move I start to unpack my special box. It is never an easy process. I am pretty sure the glaciers are melting faster than I can lose weight but it does slowly happen. It seems as I get ‘near’ my goal weight again a move looms on the horizon. And so, my freak out begins and I find my special box once more. I guess I am lucky I am not 200lbs overweight with all our moves, the 40lbs I currently have to lose are a gracious plenty.

So here our little family is coming up on our eight month in our new ministry setting. We really love it here and our girls are thriving. Our new church family is wonderful and Kevin’s ministry is engaging. I am getting comfortable and gaining my footing. I am starting to unpack my box. Hopefully, this time for good.