After almost 16 years in one location its time to relocate. Not that far really…from one side of town to the other. From the culdesac to the countryside. From high speed internet to who knows what?!

Yesterday I began packing my home study. Its crazy how much personal history is there. Twenty years of journals. Maps from various trips around the country and around the world. Books, books, and more books. Too many baseball caps.

I remember years ago giving my boss a hard time about a yard sale she was doing. I told her I could come to her house, analyze what she was selling and by reverse reasoning, discover what she valued.

Yesterday I took close notice of the things I kept and began to see a pattern of what I value.

The maps tell me that I actually thought I might get back to some of those places. I wonder…if I’d known how many of them were one-time gifts, would I have been more present? Would I have paid closer attenti0n to the sights, sounds, smells, sensations?

The journals tell me that reflection has been and continues to be a large part of my day to day learning. They tell me that I believe that daily reading, reflection, and prayer are how we become better people, deeper, substantial.

The pictures, so many pictures, show me the things that I wanted to hang on to as memories. The people I have come to love from all over the world.

The books all feel like old friends as I’ve done my best to be a life long learner. That’s perhaps the easiest parts…life continues to teach us if we are open to the lessons.

The boxes are stacking up. this whole process reminds me of a song…

This Old House

There are fifty liquor boxes in my hall
And a hundred empty nails on my wall
There’s a sign out in my yard that reads “For Sale”
And if this old house could cry the tears would fall
There are bargain hungry vultures everywhere
Buying broken toys, old clothes, and Tupperware
The phone’s been taken out, they’ve stopped the mail
And if this old house could talk I’d say a prayer

I’ve been strong and I’ve been sturdy
And I’ve weathered every storm
I’ve always kept your family safe and warm
Now you’re packing up the laughter
And you’re sweeping out the tears
If this old house were built on memories
I would stand a thousand years
This old house, this old house
If this old house were built on memories
I would stand a thousand years

Take another look before you lock my door
Where your shoes have worn the finish from my floor
Listen to my banging pipes and my creaking stair
Let your boy slide down my banister once more
I’ll remember where you hid the extra key
Where the hammer and the band aids used to be
I will smell your morning coffee in the air
And I’ll see you hanging tinsel on the tree

I’ve been strong and I’ve been sturdy
And I’ve weathered every storm
I’ve always kept your family safe and warm
Now you’re packing up the laughter
And you’re sweeping out the tears
If this old house were built on memories
I would stand a thousand years
This old house, this old house
If this old house were built on memories
I would stand a thousand years
Written by Craig Bickhardt and Thom Schuyler

Soon it will be time to take that last look and drive out of the neighborhood for good. And for a new beginning. What will the future hold? I guess we’ll know soon enough. In the mean time…could you hand me the tape gun?