Moving on

My life is about to change.

A lot.

And sometimes I don't like change. At all.

I love my parents, but I'm about to move in with them for three months, and I can't say I'm jumping with joy and excitement at the thought of this. I've lived in the same apartment for the past four years, and I've gotten so used to things there. While I'm looking forward to living closer to my friends and life outside of work in a few months, this interim period is going to be a challenge in more ways than one.

This isn't a "Failure to Launch" situation with me mooching off of my parents, and they aren't trying to get rid of me like a Matthew McConaughey. Actually, if my mom had things her way, I would live with her until I got married—so, basically, forever. I'm living there for the short time period, because it seemed like the most logical thing to do, and I think it would break my mom's heart if I chose a different option.

I haven't moved in a really long time, and I guess I forgot how grueling the process is. There's kind of a high turnover rate at my apartment complex, so I frequently see people sweating as they move heavy objects from their moving trucks on the weekends. And, every time, I think to myself, "Wow, that really sucks."

Yesterday I looked around the disaster that is my apartment at the moment and thought to myself, "Wow, this really sucks."

The parallel thoughts I had there are by no means a good thing.

It's amazing how much you can accumulate over a span of four years and how comfortable you become in being in only one place for that long. I hate to admit this, but I'm a little bit nervous to leave. I've grown accustomed to everything around me, and I've developed somewhat of a routine, if you will. I put my keys in the same place; I know exactly when my elderly neighbor who only wears Texas A&M apparel takes his dog for a stroll to the fire station and back; I know precisely how long it takes me to walk to the pool and the perfect spot to sit and read a book; the kids at the pool know not to splash the redheaded girl with the book; I have the perfect setup to be able to be on my computer and watch television at the same time; I can navigate my way from the bedroom to the front door in the pitch black and reach for my spare key in its spot on the shelf before I leave for my morning run and not stumble or smack my face into anything; and I still look at that random switch in the kitchen and wonder what the heck it does.

And now I will never know.

It's going to be strange going back to the house I grew up in and have less privacy. And less closet space. (I'm trying really hard not to be shallow about that one, but it's hard. I never knew how small my closet was until I moved out and got a walk-in one. I realize there is a life lesson there about appreciating what you have when you have it, and the genuine side of me will acknowledge it more later, but for now I'm still wondering where all of my clothes are going to go.) There are moments in life when I wish I were an extreme minimalist. This is one of those moments.

Change isn't always a bad thing, and I know that. But that doesn't mean it's the easiest thing. It's often challenging to adjust to new situations or return to old ones. Am I going to feel a tad awkward running the streets I cruised for all of my formative years? Absolutely. But, it's one of those things I'm going to have to embrace for a little while. I'm just thankful my parents love me enough to let me crash with them for the next few months without making me pay rent. The people in the front office at my apartment complex were practically going to double my rent for month-to-month leasing. They don't love me like my parents do, apparently.

It's bittersweet to be leaving "Canada," but I know it's what I need to do. I've learned a lot living up here, and I think it's helped shape me over the past years into the person I am today because of the experiences I've gone through here. But it's time to move on, and I'm excited about what's ahead, even if I have to endure some challenging adjustments beforehand.

The good news about moving is that we never lose God. He goes with us whether we're in Canada, Australia, Hawaii, Papua New Guinea, or any other place on this planet. It doesn't matter if you're in an apartment, a house, a box, alone, with your parents, in a family, with complete strangers, or with a group of good friends. It's all part of a journey. Your journey. And you're where you are for a reason.

Even if you find yourself temporarily back at the home where you grew up.

Besides, my parents may not be able to offer a tremendous amount of space for me, but they have hearts full of more love and grace than any walk-in closet could ever provide.