yes, this is our dining room. full of so much cardboard and packaging tape. the soundtrack to the last week has been the squeal of that thin plastic tape, wrapping itself around all our belongings: toys, memories, necessities, and several items that shannon wanted to get rid of buy i lobbied for. i mean, you seriously never know when you're going to need a box of bread ties.
what? it could happen.
anyway, there's not a great deal of cooking going on here, as there really isn't anything to eat on/with, so the other night we ordered chinese. i've resigned myself to always getting the lamest fortunes that the people at the fortune cookie factory could dream up, like, "this is your fortune." that's it. thank you very much. or another one i liked (hated): "things will continue to happen." i mean, i guess it's slightly promising because if it had foreseen that things would stop happening, that would be truly ominous. but this week i actually got a fortune that was appropriate. it reads, "no one can walk backwards into the future."
of course shannon's fortune read, "your fortune is as sweet as you," which is a confusing fortune because the fortune itself isn't that sweet, so is it really saying that she's not very sweet, because that's just not true, and if they are saying that i'm going to have to call and complain. plus, my fortune cookie was a bit stale.
anyway, we're moving. we're moving forwards. we're so glad for the places we've been, but we have to walk forwards. and we are starting with squealing tape and squares of cardboard. in 5 days we will be sweeping empty floors and not long after that we will be reopening these blasted boxes, pulling out our stuff so we can altogether find our way in a new place.
i have said to many of you that i appreciate your prayers during this time of transition, as it is as emotionally strenuous as it is physically demanding. it is about looking backward and forward and finding the right balance of all of that. and so, today i share a prayer with you, one from the chorus of prayers bouncing around in my own head and heart right now. and if you are in your own time of transition, maybe these are somehow partly your words, too.
o Author of life,
the creator of somethings from nothing,
of beginnings, and sometimes endings,
i come to you in-between.
meet me here.
in this place so marked with memories,
yet so full of forward-looking fears,
help me find my footing on the holy ground of your presence.
for where you are is holy.
and you are here.
walking with me, towards the new beginning,
as you walked with abraham in his old age,
and with moses in his daring daylight escape,
and with Jesus, in his face-set march towards his own new beginning,
you also walk with me,
and with all who straddle the chapters in our stories.
and so let me take up the pen, the walking stick,
the boxes packed with the past,
and face the new thing with all the comfort of one
who has read this story before,
knowing that you are not left behind
or in some hidden future,
but right here,
in the journey.