Packing, etc.

I don't know what it is about packing that makes me feel melancholy. It should be an exciting thing to think of a new place - expanding my world a bit more. Even if that just meant moving to a different part of town, well, even within the same HOUSE, change can be good - I remember when I lived in Denver in a four-bedroom house, and when I became the "senior member" of the household (I had been there the longest), I moved one bedroom down the hall. The new room was twice the size of my old room - it was WORTH the trouble. Not to mention double the closet space. That move was exciting. This move is unsettling, to say the least. I'm packing my beautiful books and pictures and movies... boxing them up to go into storage at my friends' homes... and then what? I don't know. This is such an incredible stretch for my "loves-to-plan" brain NOT to have everything mapped out. It's just the way this all worked out - logistics would bore here. But as a friend reminded me yesterday, God has a sovereign plan that I am a little part of. I am not so insignificant as to be "forgotten" as I feel when I am feeling like a petulant child who did not get my immediate want/need met. Yes, I have the freedom to choose whatever I do and wherever I go, and I've done this for oh - so many years now. Right now, as I take a break from packing, the sweat pouring off me from bending and stretching and moving boxes, I'm sad that I'm again, packing up my little life into so many boxes. But I do it with hope of things to come, of dreams to realize, of new vistas that will be before me - not necessarily physically, but more importantly, new vistas for my heart as I risk, believe, and hope.