We had been packing for what felt like forever. Which is weird, because I never felt like we had truly unpacked since our last move. And hadn’t we been moving stuff little by little all week anyway? And why do we still have so much stuff? We’ve been purging and purging . And Kelley and I had just moved the kitchen last weekend. Didn’t we? Why does this kitchen still feel full of stuff? Our little lady was staying with my parents so that we could stay up packing all night, but my body was beginning to rebel against me. I needed a nap. I looked at my night owl of a husband and asked that he wake me up in an hour.
Four hours later, my alarm was going off. How is it already 6!?! I thought we were getting up an hour! We’re so not ready. There’s still mess to pack! I immediately go back to packing mode and my husband goes to find us food. He returns and makes me stop to eat and I knew I’d be thankful for that later.
“We aren’t ready. This house is still a mess.”
“It’s okay. Our friends and our family will be here soon and everything’s going to be okay. You’ll see.”
It wasn’t much longer when we heard the back doorbell ring. Our friends were starting to arrive. The first of which we had just learned last weekend would no longer be amongst our Sunday School family. And I’d taken that news hard. It was really good to have them walk through the door and remind us that doing life together isn’t contingent on being in the same class.
“Hey y’all. Come on in.”
“We aren’t as ready as I had hoped. There’s still stuff to pack.”
She looked at me and smiled. “It’s okay. It’s a work in progress. We’re here to help. Tell me where to start. Where are boxes? I’ll start packing back here.” And my husband was right. Everything was going to be okay. Her husband walked through to the living room,
“We brought our van with the back seats out. Okay if I start loading this stuff in here into it? And then when the other house opens up, I’ll head over there with it.”
“Sure. That’d be great.”
It wasn’t long after that initial moment of admitting that our house was still a mess and that I was looking a hot mess, that our house was full of our people. And they were willing to come in, be in our mess with us, and share in the excitement of our family’s new home. In a few short hours, they had us completely moved.
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We headed to the new house and I was almost dreading it, because I know how much stuff we have and how much unpacking was ahead of us.
I walked through our new front door and everyone was working so hard to help us get settled. Two friends had already set Katherine’s room up for her, ready for her to come unpack her stuff. Another was walking up to me, asking about bedding for our two rooms.
“We need to at least get y’all in position to crawl in bed tonight.”
“It’s out in my trunk.”
“Let me get your keys then.”
“I’ll walk with you.” During our walk, I looked at her and said, “I feel bad that you guys have had to help do so much of this mess today.”
“Girl, we all have mess. It just doesn’t always look the same. Trust me, it’s so NOT a big deal.”
I walked back in where curtains were being hung and our kitchen was being unpacked. I stepped downstairs to find men folks hooking up the washer and dryer. My dad was calling me to the boiler room, he’d discovered how hot our water was running and wanted to show me how to monitor and control that. Somewhere in there we had stopped to eat the food that another friend had picked up and she gathered all of our kids out the door for softball game. Giving us a chance to breathe for a minute. Our community had more than rallied for our need.
At the end of our day, I crawled into bed completely exhausted and so thankful that it was made for us. The house was quiet and I was thanking God for this group of people that He lets us do life with. These friends that are family who were Jesus with skin on for us that day. And truthfully… mess or not… I can’t imagine doing life without them.
Show Me What It Means 