It’s moving day. At least for this family. Traditionally, United Methodist pastors move the first Tuesday after Annual Conference, but when the Conference year was moved to July 1, moving day got pushed back a couple of weeks. But, it’s moving day for us.

I know you may be getting tired of me writing about moving, but that’s pretty much been all that’s on my mind over the past couple of weeks. Maybe after today I can “move” on to another topic. Vanessa will probably want to know how could I get up this morning, of all mornings, and write a blog. She’ll want to know why didn’t I get up and pack a box, or move a box, or tape a box, or do ANYTHING to a box, besides sit here ON a box typing on my computer. I really don’t have an answer for that one. Perhaps she’ll wake up and start packing, moving or taping boxes and not take the time to check facebook, so she won’t notice that I blogged until tomorrow. Then, it’ll all be over.

We’ve moved a lot. Let’s see…across the street in Chatham, from town to the country, back to town, from Chatham to Eros, from Eros to Junction City, Kentucky, from Junction City to Morgan City, Louisiana, from Morgan City to Minden, from Minden to Benton, from Benton to Monroe, and now, across town in Monroe. This makes our tenth move as a family (if I counted correctly). Geesh! You’d think we were in the military or something. Ten moves in 32 years…that’s moving an average of every 3.2 years (and you thought I was no good at math!). No wonder we’re good at moving.

I’ve learned over the years that one should never say never, but I’m going to go out on a limb here and say, “I’m NEVER going to move again!” Let me rephrase that last statement: I don’t ever want to move again. I guess it’s because I’m older, but moving just makes me tired! I see boxes, whether empty or full, and the energy just drains out of my body. It’s taking it’s toll of Vanessa, too. I can tell. I’m not fishing for sympathy, I’m just telling you I don’t know how “old” folks move. It’ll wear you out.

I learned in this move that I’ve gotten way too comfortable in two years in this house. Perhaps as comfortable as I’ve ever been. Maybe it’s because I’ve loved my job so much, or perhaps it’s because so many of our family are so close, or even because we feel like we’re on our home turf in Monroe. Whatever it is, I’ve been incredibly comfortable in this house. It’s not good to get comfortable. Comfort can lead to complacency, and complacency can lead to apathy. Lord, may I never get comfortable.

I suppose I should rather pray for contentment. The Apostle Paul told Timothy that “godliness with contentment is great gain” (1 Timothy 6:6), and to the Philippians he wrote these incredible words, “Not that I was ever in need, for I have learned how to be content with whatever I have. I know how to live on almost nothing or with everything. I have learned the secret of living in every situation, whether it is with a full stomach or empty, with plenty or little. For I can do everything through Christ, who gives me strength.” (Philippians 4:11-13). Contentment, and this from a man who was beaten with whips and  rods, stoned, shipwrecked, and imprisoned. Makes moving not quite so bad, after all.

So, I’m praying for contentment this morning as I survey the boxes and wait for the moving van. Comfort, complacency or apathy should not be a problem today, at least. There’s too much work to be done. Perhaps I should get up and get to it. Get back at least a little credibility with Vanessa.

Until next time, keep looking up…