This was written, June 2014 and updated today as I contemplate Daddy's home going on May 12, 2012.
Moving Day
Moving Day … the phrase conjures
up a plethora of emotions… excitement … happiness … a bit of melancholy and yes
overt sadness.
I experienced my first
moving day when I was 18 months old; it really wasn’t all that traumatic. I
wasn’t that shaken by it. All that mattered is that Mommy and Daddy were going
as well. We were moving from a tiny house at the end of a boulevard to a more
developing neighborhood with children and the neighborhood school – standard of
the late 1950’s and early 1960’s.
We
remained in that house until issues with my health necessitated another move;
so moving day came at the end of my first grade year. The plan was to sell and
build. We sold, but then needed a place to live until our house was complete.
In the ensuing months we moved traveling light – we lived in a basement
apartment, in a house vacated by friends who were passing the summer in Canada,
and ultimately with my maternal grandparents.
According to my paternal grandmother this move took its toll on my six
year old emotions despite the fact the fact I was with mommy and daddy every step of the
way. She reports that on one overnight visit with her, I drew a picture of a
bluebird singing “Sweet Cathy Wants a Home.”
We were nicely settled in our home, but five years later in the
providence of God it was time for another move.
I was not happy even though I would have my parents, but I was resistant
to the change and upheaval in my life that I knew would result.
With this moving day I began to wall my heart
closed.
When we finally got into the
house, we passed a miserable winter. My mom began to show signs of her congenital
heart disease.
My dad was miserable and
somewhat fearful not only of her heath, but also of his own.
I had bought into lies about my relationship
with God and was slowly imploding spiritually and emotionally. We blamed the
house – erroneous thinking, but hurting people frequently need a
scapegoat.
In all of the pain, God had a
plan.
Our church had just taken on a
second staff member and wanted a place for him and his family. Our property
backed up to the church property. Would we consider selling our house and land
to the church? We discussed it as a family – another moving day was in our
future.
We lived in a trailer while we
renovated a barn. That was home for the next for the next 30 years.
For my mom it was a few less – for she stepped
straight into Heaven from her bedroom – now that was some moving day.
Three years
after her home going we sold our house to the church with an ever
expanding staff. Packing up the memories … loading our stuff. Coming to a
condo. Then Daddy had his moving day from ICU and Palliative care – I know he was
glad to leave
that baggage
behind.
Now I’ve downsized
again. Perhaps today was one of the
most painful of all.
I’m letting go of
stuff that has a lifetime of memories attached to it. I don’t have Mommy and
Daddy to go through this with me, but I have someone better. Someone eternal.
Anything I’ve left or lost in previous moves is transient – temporal and
earthbound. My heart and eyes must be set on that ultimate move --- with no strings
keeping me here.
It is now 2017 and the longings and missings are
just as keen as ever. I can not ... I will not dissolve into endless
grief. I promised that I would not. I want to honor their memory by
living a life that glorifies God, so that when we are reunited in the
presence in Heaven, I can face Jesus, Mommy, and Daddy unashamed and
with great joy.
