I've packed up a house and moved over 30 times in my life. I know it's over thirty but beyond that I've honestly lost count. Somewhere between the 5th and 10th times it was something fun and exciting to do. Between move #10 and #20 I think it probably felt a little like a job at times, but strangely enough a job I enjoyed. And all the rest just became easy and mindless and something I could do without really stressing or worrying. I had a system, and once I kicked it into gear, look out! There were a couple exceptions however. The move overseas for Kelly and I back in 03', that was difficult. I've packed up cardboard boxes a thousand times, but cramming it all in suitcases which couldn't be more than 75lbs...well this was a challenge. But it was a challenge I relished, and conquered. Each subsiquent move in Europe (Den Haag to our friend's apartment in Paris, and then from there to our own apartment, and then from our own apartment back to the states), these were interesting. Some of the highlights of our European moves were being driven in a moving truck by our French friend with wild curly red hair whose driving was inspired by the wildness of his locks, storing our stuff underground in archaic caves something akin to a creepy crypt, somehow managing to lug enough stuff to warrant the help of 10 assistants with just Kelly and I all accross Europe on Trains and busses, and lugging new purchases back from IKEA over 20 miles with no car (those were some interesting bus and train rides!).
All this moving has really produced an adventurous spirit within me, a "just-get-it-done" attitude, and a real appreciation for systematic thinking (sounds dorky but it's true). But the "just-get-it-done" attribute, that's one of my favorites. For instance, there was the time in Paris my friend and team leader Frank bought a dryer for his family. None of us had a car and we didn't think we could fit it in one anyways...which also meant taxis were out. So I looked at Frank and said, "let's just walk it back". Frank, being the adventurous guy that he is, was all in. We borrowed a dolly from the local butcher whom Frank had befriended, took a train, and picked it up. What was next was a fantastic walk I'll never forget pushing a dryer on a butcher's dolly clear accross the city of Paris laughing and talking and making a wonderful memory with a great friend. And it worked : ) We got it back to his apartment. And did it matter how we got it there? Form, fashion, method...whatever! We did it, and that's what mattered.
So here we are on our next move. Packing up a house pending a sale (which kinda feels like starting a marathon knowing at any point somebody could blow a whistle and just tell everybody to start again). We're looking for a new place in a new city, which even that could change depending on a few outstanding issues. And this time we're doing all this with a 4 year old and a 19 month old. The latter could care less, but the former has questions and concerns and we're doing our best to walk with him through. Oh and if the the landlord of the new place we are to rent (wherever that is) asks for proof of income, at this point we'll just smile and say "we started a new small business that makes furniture and other goods to sell but to also give away...for love.....and well sir/mam, we'll get back to you in a year or so on that whole income thing. k!?"
Now that I've painted that picture for you of total stress and crazy making stuff, here's the deal. We're actually ok. We're finding peace in the middle of it all. Don't get me wrong, we still stress. We still worry and try to figure things out at times that are really impossible to figure out. There are moments of feeling terribly inadequate, stupid, and crazy. But with each step forward that we take we feel more at home no matter where we are or what's happening around us, and that is worth every move.
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