Tomorrow the long awaited weekend of moving begins. Final boxes must be packed. Sixty years of life and memories sorted and stuffed into cardboard boxes. I have learned that stuff is not stuff when memory begins to fade. It morphs into an anchor, a sign post, and trail marker that can take you back to a sweeter place in time and somehow fill a disquieted spirit with calm.

So we will try to work the miracle. We'll smile and encourage and ooh and ah over new places, new things, less space to clean, less clutter to manage.

We'll rest assured in a God who never leaves us or forsakes us, but goes ahead of us into new places. Thanks be to God.