By Angela Moore
Whew! Last week was a doozy. On Thursday around 11a.m. knee-deep in boxes, garbage, too much stuff, plans, phone calls, scheduling,
rescheduling, unexpected conflict and the likes, I was preparing for the move from my old house to my new and I found myself sitting on
the steps of my downstairs den about to bawl like a baby. Actually, I think a tear did fall. This was supposed to be a blessed day. I’d prayed for this moving day FOR YEARS, and had overcome the struggles in the weeks prior just to find somewhere to live and a resource to afford it. I’d even celebrated this moment in advance as I prepared to finally be moved. But it did not feel like a blessing as moving day progressed.
On moving day things got off to a great start. I woke earlier than planned. The packing the days prior from some certified angels on
earth was stellar. The threat of rain appeared to be only a threat. The Two Men and a Truck movers were moving right along. My very own
personal handyman was fulfilling his role as only he could in helping me handle business, then out of nowhere the rain came, the progress
slowed down, the rain came even harder, the heavy items presented major problems, the rain stopped/tricked me/started again, the clock
of payment kept ticking (at an hourly rate I can’t even type) and all I could think of was WHY. Why was this happening to me? Why did I
have to go through this years-long process and pay for it big time? Why would it start raining just as they were moving out the things
with fabric? Why was I already so tired from recently having to balance more on my plate to be able to afford to move because of
circumstances totally out of my control or causing? Why was it taking so doggone long to move all of my stuff causing my ever-ticking tab to
skyrocket? Why? Why? Why?
I know my attitude the morning of March 24th toward a few key people wasn’t its best as I grappled with what I was feeling internally. I
apologize to them. To make matters worse, as in my attitude, when we finally made it to my new house it appeared that my furniture
wouldn’t fit. You cannot imagine the frustration overflowing. At that moment, with the amazingly helpful men struggling and sweating to
try to accommodate me and all my stuff, moving a heavy California King bed and other items which are paid for in full and all I have, and
knowing the clock which started at 8:30a.m. and was well into the p.m., I was on the verge of officially losing it. I wanted to QUIT IT ALL
right there in the midst of the move. But I didn’t. For one, I couldn’t. I was too far in. For two, I couldn’t. That’s just not like me no matter how tempting. So what I did was rally up the troops. I listened to the sound advice, the kind comfort, the touch of love, the tough love, the sage wisdom and the firm facts of faith from
those who were privy to what I was experiencing and I heeded their advice, trusted the process, and I let go. I simply blew out a really
deep breath and let it go. I relinquished my lists of “what ifs”, “what am I going to do” and “this isn’t fair”. I reflected not on how I ended up in this place in the first place. I didn’t continue to calculate the growing costs in my mind. I just let it go and decided I shall not be moved…but I finally was moved. Thanks be
to God!
@AngelaMMoore316
