As I mentioned, last time, in order to make such a big move, there were a few important things I needed to figure out. 1) I’d need a job. 2) I’d need a home. 3) I’d need to figure out how to get my stuff to my new home.
Option 1: Get rid of all my stuff and start over.
This option was attractive for its elegant simplicity. No fuss, no muss. Sometime, I just might write about the three times I've done exactly that. Stuff, after all, is just stuff. So I took inventory: one well-loved couch & armchair. A beautiful bedroom set that I love. Books. Some shelves - both homemade and put-together-from-boxes (not nearly enough for the books, though). Lovely things, but it's not like I they were antiques or heirlooms. I didn't even have a kitchen table or dishes. My treasures have always been my relationships.
---And, it turns out, the mementos of those relationships. When I sat down to inventory my life, I found just a few things I couldn't part with (or digitize).
My hope chest (custom made for me by the men in my family).
My scrapbooks (and scrapbooks in progress). Together these hold my most cherished memories.
My journal-boxes (which fill the hope chest). Journals, creative writing, playbills, graduation announcements, and other assorted mementos (and special jewelry) representing milestones in my life and the lives of those I love.
If these things were taken from me by a fire or flood, I would have to deal with it. But I could never choose to get rid of them. And since they wouldn't fit in my car anyway, selling the rest of the stuff would be foolish.
Option 2: Drive a moving van myself.
This is, after all, how my family usually moves. Rent the big white truck. Load it. Drive it. Unload it.
Unload it.
That might be a problem. See, on the loading end, I was pretty sure I could arrange for help. Since I knew no one in VA, unloading would be all me. Imagine, please, me, myself, and I moving a long horizontal dresser. Or a hope chest. Or a couch. All alone.
Yea. Not really an option.
Option 3: Hire movers
This was stressful, because it was the unknown option. I don't do well with unknowns. It was a little more expensive than renting a moving van (but not really, if I had to hire muscle to help at my destination).
I did my research, and I found out that really there's not much a customer can do beyond choosing a reputable moving company. Other than that, it's all out of your hands. Which is, after all, the point.
So, I decided to hire movers.
I got estimates.
I arranged dates.
I gave notice to my landlord.
My roommate and I started packing.
You may have noticed that I skipped #2: find a home. Um...yea. Initially, I thought I could find a place with a short term lease by doing my research online. In the 21st century, it should be easy enough to use search engines and satelite maps to start looking for apartments. Once I had a job and a zipcode, I was sure I could at least get some ideas, find safety data for neighborhoods, read reviews. With any luck I could call some managers and be pretty set before I arrived.
So I started to do all that. I made lists, and found links. Then I took a break and helped my roommate in WA find her a new place. She began her search exactly as I planned to begin mine - online. Together we went to check out some of her prospects in this city we'd lived in for 13 years.
Have you seen that commercial for ... actually, I don't even know what it's for. It ends with the "French model." Here's a link to a shortened youtube clip. Yea.
My point is this: the internet is good for many things, but for me, at any rate, finding a new home long-distance is not one of them. We were suckered into looking at some pretty awful places in a city we knew really well. (She did find a cute place, by the way). I found myself imagining all the horrors I might get myself into if I tried to follow through on my plan. So, I gave up the internet search, and once again, found myself praying that the Lord would provide. Knowing that could mean anything. Confident I would be taken care of.
I packed up (with the help of MANY fabulous friends).
The movers came.
I turned in my keys.
And stepped out in faith.
I arrived in my new town on a Thursday morning, with no clue where I was going to live.
Friday evening I had a landlord.
Sunday I had a lease.
Monday I moved in.
I don't know you, but I call that a miracle.
Do you want to know the very best part?
The new apartment came with a kitchen table. And bookcases. My very own golden fleece, right there in my empty new apartment. (Not sure what I'm talking about? Check out Gideon's story in the Bible). I hadn't even asked for reassurance, but God provided it for me anyway.
Because He knows my heart, and knows that I tend to worry, doubt, and second-guess.
But, as I sit at my table and type, I'm learning to trust. How could I not?
Just over 10 weeks ago I decided to completely rearrange my life. With little savings, in a bad economy, I decided to move across the country to a state where I didn't know a single person, for no better reason than that I wanted to. Anyone with any sense will tell you that this should NEVER have worked out. Yet, it did. It did.
Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding;
in all your ways submit to Him, and He will make straight your paths. -Proverbs 3:5-6
Option 1: Get rid of all my stuff and start over.
This option was attractive for its elegant simplicity. No fuss, no muss. Sometime, I just might write about the three times I've done exactly that. Stuff, after all, is just stuff. So I took inventory: one well-loved couch & armchair. A beautiful bedroom set that I love. Books. Some shelves - both homemade and put-together-from-boxes (not nearly enough for the books, though). Lovely things, but it's not like I they were antiques or heirlooms. I didn't even have a kitchen table or dishes. My treasures have always been my relationships.
---And, it turns out, the mementos of those relationships. When I sat down to inventory my life, I found just a few things I couldn't part with (or digitize).My hope chest (custom made for me by the men in my family).
My scrapbooks (and scrapbooks in progress). Together these hold my most cherished memories.
My journal-boxes (which fill the hope chest). Journals, creative writing, playbills, graduation announcements, and other assorted mementos (and special jewelry) representing milestones in my life and the lives of those I love.
If these things were taken from me by a fire or flood, I would have to deal with it. But I could never choose to get rid of them. And since they wouldn't fit in my car anyway, selling the rest of the stuff would be foolish.
Option 2: Drive a moving van myself.This is, after all, how my family usually moves. Rent the big white truck. Load it. Drive it. Unload it.
Unload it.
That might be a problem. See, on the loading end, I was pretty sure I could arrange for help. Since I knew no one in VA, unloading would be all me. Imagine, please, me, myself, and I moving a long horizontal dresser. Or a hope chest. Or a couch. All alone.
Yea. Not really an option.
Option 3: Hire movers
This was stressful, because it was the unknown option. I don't do well with unknowns. It was a little more expensive than renting a moving van (but not really, if I had to hire muscle to help at my destination).
I did my research, and I found out that really there's not much a customer can do beyond choosing a reputable moving company. Other than that, it's all out of your hands. Which is, after all, the point.
So, I decided to hire movers.
I got estimates.
I arranged dates.
I gave notice to my landlord.
My roommate and I started packing.
You may have noticed that I skipped #2: find a home. Um...yea. Initially, I thought I could find a place with a short term lease by doing my research online. In the 21st century, it should be easy enough to use search engines and satelite maps to start looking for apartments. Once I had a job and a zipcode, I was sure I could at least get some ideas, find safety data for neighborhoods, read reviews. With any luck I could call some managers and be pretty set before I arrived.
So I started to do all that. I made lists, and found links. Then I took a break and helped my roommate in WA find her a new place. She began her search exactly as I planned to begin mine - online. Together we went to check out some of her prospects in this city we'd lived in for 13 years.
Have you seen that commercial for ... actually, I don't even know what it's for. It ends with the "French model." Here's a link to a shortened youtube clip. Yea.
My point is this: the internet is good for many things, but for me, at any rate, finding a new home long-distance is not one of them. We were suckered into looking at some pretty awful places in a city we knew really well. (She did find a cute place, by the way). I found myself imagining all the horrors I might get myself into if I tried to follow through on my plan. So, I gave up the internet search, and once again, found myself praying that the Lord would provide. Knowing that could mean anything. Confident I would be taken care of.
I packed up (with the help of MANY fabulous friends).
The movers came.
I turned in my keys.
And stepped out in faith.
I arrived in my new town on a Thursday morning, with no clue where I was going to live.
Friday evening I had a landlord.
Sunday I had a lease.
Monday I moved in.
 |
| My (front) door. Welcome. |
The house. I have the basement.
The "across the street" neighbors.
Do you want to know the very best part?
The new apartment came with a kitchen table. And bookcases. My very own golden fleece, right there in my empty new apartment. (Not sure what I'm talking about? Check out Gideon's story in the Bible). I hadn't even asked for reassurance, but God provided it for me anyway.
Because He knows my heart, and knows that I tend to worry, doubt, and second-guess.
But, as I sit at my table and type, I'm learning to trust. How could I not?
Just over 10 weeks ago I decided to completely rearrange my life. With little savings, in a bad economy, I decided to move across the country to a state where I didn't know a single person, for no better reason than that I wanted to. Anyone with any sense will tell you that this should NEVER have worked out. Yet, it did. It did.
Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding;
in all your ways submit to Him, and He will make straight your paths. -Proverbs 3:5-6
