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| Grandpa brought their fridge to my house today! |
I now know
that my move-in date is close. I don’t
know when exactly, but I know that it is now days instead of weeks.
Am I
packed? No.
Do I care?
No.
Am I
feeling sentimental about leaving my parents’ house? Umm, yes.
I love my
parents and my brother, and I’m tearing up now thinking about how I will miss
seeing them every night when I get home from work. Good thing I’m moving only a mile and a half
away. J
Maybe this
is pathetic to share, but as an 18 year old, I cried through almost my entire
first semester of college because I missed my family. I wasn’t adjusting smoothly to the
change. I remember that I had a
psychology class, and my prof asked for a volunteer who was homesick. Oh my
goodness, why did I raise my hand?!!
He asked me to come to the front of the room. Then he told me to close my eyes and
visualize walking through my door at home.
“What’s the
first thing you see?” he asked.
With tears
in my throat, I said, “My mom!” And then I started crying in front of the whole
class.
He was an
adjunct professor, and I don’t think he had ever tried that experiment before,
and I bet he never tried it again. We
didn’t get anywhere with it because I was just crying.
Before I
got to college, I thought I was a confident girl who was ready to be on her
own, try new things, and build new friendships.
But instead, I found myself crying in front of my psychology class and
resenting the laughter I’d hear in the hallways because no one else seemed to
be as homesick as I was.
But slowly…month
by month…I adjusted to college life. And
slowly…block by block…I built new friendships.
I no longer had that sick feeling in my stomach when I drove back to
campus after the weekends were over. I
no longer walked around without a smile. On one of the first nice days of
Spring, I went roller blading with Emily on the campus sidewalks. That’s when I
remember feeling happy and at home there for the first time.
Then in May
2009, I moved back home to my parents’ house after my college graduation. I
piled all of my stuff from my college apartment into my car and then 90 miles
later, I unloaded it into my childhood bedroom.
I was sentimental that night. I
had graduated in 3 years, so I left a year before my close friends. I was sad to leave them. I leaned against my bed and felt an empty
disappointment that Emily and I would never be roommates again.
I knew it
was a new season, but I knew the transition from being a full-time student to
being a full-time ministry leader wouldn’t be easy for me. It’s tough to leave what you know. It’s tough to be a rookie.
Today I
watched my dad manhandle my grandparents’ fridge into my house. (Thanks, Dad.) Today I met with my bank to
close. Tomorrow I meet with my
construction manager one last time. The
next few days will bring loading furniture onto truck beds and packing up my
things and unloading boxes.
I am
26—I’ll be 27 in 2 weeks. I don’t have a
good track record of transitioning without tears. Don’t get me started with how
much I cried when Peyton Manning left the Colts. But I guess that’s me, and I guess I’m cool
with being independent and sentimental at the same time. New things are always exciting, and I’m so
happy and thankful right now to be moving into my new home. But I know myself enough to know that I don’t
need to try to transition without tears.
J
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