My sleeping habits lately have left quite a lot to be desired and here I am again late night blogging as if I’ve got nothing better to do like get some grub and curl up next to my beautiful wife and catch some sleep. Yet here I am. I enjoy writing and I enjoy blogging and I want to keep the rhythm going.
The reason for the lateness of tonight’s blogging takes some historical context. Before leaving home for university in the Autumn of 1996 I had not done packing and moving before. Our family had moved once since I was born but thankfully I was around 6 or 7 at the time so I wasn’t really going to give a helping hand with lifting the double bed, the fridge and the large television! Getting the stuff to leave for university was a bit of a chore, but thankfully there wasn’t that much stuff to bring, mostly my clothes and books.
Such was my time of accumulating junk during my time at university that subsequent moves from halls of residence to a private rented landlord back to other halls of residence proved to be more and more inconvenient as more awkward moves were required. By the time I got back to Wellingborough and then moved to London the car was heaving under the weight of stuff I had to take with me, but that was alright because when I moved that would be it right? Oh, no I’d move at least twice in the six months in London, but that’s okay because it’s not as though I’ll be doing any moving right?
It really got crazy when I moved to Stoke-on-Trent in 2000. In eight years I moved almost the equivalent to once every year. Now by this time what had been clothes and a few books now includes furniture. That would have been bad enough but during the time in Stoke-on-Trent there was the ever present danger of helping others move from one crib to another and the joy of seeing how on earth did that couch that is in the living room get there when it can’t fit through the door and how are we going to unscrew this large wardrobe and put it back together again when we get to wherever we’re going?
I’d like to tell you that because of all those experiences I have got used to moving and have made my peace with it as inevitable in the life I live. I’d like to tell you that but in doing so I would be a liar. I hate moving. I’ve hated moving since the clothes and a few books and I hate moving when it’s an awkward wardrobe and even worse long sofa. Absolutely, positively possess an unrelenting hatred for moving. Indeed nothing helps me to appreciate simple living more than carrying around a whole heap of stuff into the umpteenth home that I have to live in. I’d love it if I literally could just my backpack, slap the laptop in there, a few pieces of clothing, some important books and that would be me.
David Banner didn’t have it all bad being able to move around America with just a satchel of ever conveniently stretchy jeans and a top that will be shredded before his next stop is over. At least he could travel simple. Me on the other hand – three children, one wife who happens to be a woman which means tons of stuff, no not as bad as other women, but bad enough. Who’s packing that up? Who’s shifting it in whatever transport is available? Who’ll unpack it and leave it to the self-same wife who is a woman to sort out? No siree Jim-Bob I do not have any love left for moving – if it can be avoided I would avoid it.
Your word of encouragement may fall in line with the sentiment that it cannot be avoided and like a journey involving a hill I should just get over it. Thanks for those sentiments, they are really appreciated in as much as anything that isn’t appreciated is appreciated. So you can guess what I’ve been up to that leaves me still writing this blog entry way past 2am. A dear sister of the church has been on the move and so as to support her in that move muggins has been hooked into helping the process that from 9pm would only take two hours, right? (You should get the drift of where this is going) Despite all that I plod on with the help without grumbling or complaining because what I’m doing I do out of a love for God and a special part of the family.
One of the things that makes moving bearable is the camaraderie with others. Doing these kind of things with friends is a glorious expression of what happens when brothers get together and work on something – indeed as Col. Hannibal Smith said I love it when a plan comes together. Just like life, it has its moments which are not always enjoyable but I get the impression that God doesn’t always want me to enjoy the process, but enjoy Him during the process, which is expressed in the context of loving relationships. I know that there are more moves ahead, but I hope that they are in the company of good friends to help get through them.
For His Name's Sake
Shalom
dmcd
The reason for the lateness of tonight’s blogging takes some historical context. Before leaving home for university in the Autumn of 1996 I had not done packing and moving before. Our family had moved once since I was born but thankfully I was around 6 or 7 at the time so I wasn’t really going to give a helping hand with lifting the double bed, the fridge and the large television! Getting the stuff to leave for university was a bit of a chore, but thankfully there wasn’t that much stuff to bring, mostly my clothes and books.
Such was my time of accumulating junk during my time at university that subsequent moves from halls of residence to a private rented landlord back to other halls of residence proved to be more and more inconvenient as more awkward moves were required. By the time I got back to Wellingborough and then moved to London the car was heaving under the weight of stuff I had to take with me, but that was alright because when I moved that would be it right? Oh, no I’d move at least twice in the six months in London, but that’s okay because it’s not as though I’ll be doing any moving right?
It really got crazy when I moved to Stoke-on-Trent in 2000. In eight years I moved almost the equivalent to once every year. Now by this time what had been clothes and a few books now includes furniture. That would have been bad enough but during the time in Stoke-on-Trent there was the ever present danger of helping others move from one crib to another and the joy of seeing how on earth did that couch that is in the living room get there when it can’t fit through the door and how are we going to unscrew this large wardrobe and put it back together again when we get to wherever we’re going?
I’d like to tell you that because of all those experiences I have got used to moving and have made my peace with it as inevitable in the life I live. I’d like to tell you that but in doing so I would be a liar. I hate moving. I’ve hated moving since the clothes and a few books and I hate moving when it’s an awkward wardrobe and even worse long sofa. Absolutely, positively possess an unrelenting hatred for moving. Indeed nothing helps me to appreciate simple living more than carrying around a whole heap of stuff into the umpteenth home that I have to live in. I’d love it if I literally could just my backpack, slap the laptop in there, a few pieces of clothing, some important books and that would be me.
David Banner didn’t have it all bad being able to move around America with just a satchel of ever conveniently stretchy jeans and a top that will be shredded before his next stop is over. At least he could travel simple. Me on the other hand – three children, one wife who happens to be a woman which means tons of stuff, no not as bad as other women, but bad enough. Who’s packing that up? Who’s shifting it in whatever transport is available? Who’ll unpack it and leave it to the self-same wife who is a woman to sort out? No siree Jim-Bob I do not have any love left for moving – if it can be avoided I would avoid it.
Your word of encouragement may fall in line with the sentiment that it cannot be avoided and like a journey involving a hill I should just get over it. Thanks for those sentiments, they are really appreciated in as much as anything that isn’t appreciated is appreciated. So you can guess what I’ve been up to that leaves me still writing this blog entry way past 2am. A dear sister of the church has been on the move and so as to support her in that move muggins has been hooked into helping the process that from 9pm would only take two hours, right? (You should get the drift of where this is going) Despite all that I plod on with the help without grumbling or complaining because what I’m doing I do out of a love for God and a special part of the family.
One of the things that makes moving bearable is the camaraderie with others. Doing these kind of things with friends is a glorious expression of what happens when brothers get together and work on something – indeed as Col. Hannibal Smith said I love it when a plan comes together. Just like life, it has its moments which are not always enjoyable but I get the impression that God doesn’t always want me to enjoy the process, but enjoy Him during the process, which is expressed in the context of loving relationships. I know that there are more moves ahead, but I hope that they are in the company of good friends to help get through them.
For His Name's Sake
Shalom
dmcd
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