On Moving and Grace

Old digs as we were packing up…photo (12)

It is finished. Our move is over.

And before I jump into the lighter posts of showing you all of our nooks and crannies with just the right Instagram filter, there will be this post.

I believe I will forever have a new appreciation of  (I don’t appreciate it) …understanding of the word MOVE.

It’s one thing to have a company that wants your skills to pay nice moving people to come wrap every last Precious Moments figurine in layers of dead trees so it arrives in its perfect ceramic state along with everything else. It’s fully another to desperately cajole one’s friends to  spend their Saturday lifting things that originally came via freight shipping and for an additional change of $150.

Well, this move was a friend move. And the first time since having kids that we did one. We weren’t, as you would say, prepared. In fact, as friends showed up  most sported a look of mild surprise trying to mask the unfortunate discovery that practically none of our crap was, in fact, packed into boxes.

We thought we were ahead of the game, come on, this was only a cross-town move. We’d taken the seats out of the van and made lots of trips already. Please let’s just keep it to ourselves that on more than one occasion while I was driving that van sans seats,  my children could be found crawling around in the open space (where their seats used to be) like little monkeys, old-school style. (Did you not take road trips as a kid in the back of a family vehicle sans seat belt? If not, you haven’t lived).

Moving did not bring out the best in me. At a time when grace…undeserved, unearned favor and kindness…would be essential, I had little to give. When I was drowning in a sea of boxes, tripping over furniture, going to bed in a layer of renovation dust sprinkled all over my sheets, spending more time than not looking for things I couldn’t find– it was all I could do to not have a breakdown myself, let alone extend kindness to others.

But in my moments of being overwhelmed, it’s exactly what I needed.

Grace…. Undeserved mercy, unearned favor and kindness.

  • Friends showing up for many, many hours of their precious time on the weekends.
  • A husband that just kept going, serving us when things were hard. (I think he rented a U-haul three times throughout the course of the move…and you know how shady that situation usually is…)
  • A mom who did more than her fair share of cleaning, kid watching and lifting heavy boxes.
  • Texts and prayers of encouragement from countless friends.

Moving showed me how desperately human I am. Things were not peachy, I was not peachy.

So unlike my Savior. In the midst of His greatest trial (which in no way can I compare my piddly little moving situation as a trial), He was Grace defined. Beaten, rejected, taunted, physically nailed to a tree. He had every right to lash out, lose it, or pull out of what was going on. But no. He chose to give His very life for my broken humanity (and yours), that can not stand before God as worthy.

I’m glad to be done moving. I’m thankful for the grace extended to us throughout our move. And I’m eternally grateful to the greatest example of Grace giving His life for me. When it all comes to an end on this earth, I will happily leave all the junk we just carted across town and run into my Savior’s arms, unencumbered by stuff or sin.

Have a wonderful Easter reflecting on His great grace.

The new digs… a 1931 charmer.

photo (13)


  1. so good, heidi! i am so out of the loop. a move! with 4 little ones & much needed friends and loved ones’ support & helping hands! do you have a past post that shared what led up to your decision to move. i’d love to hear more. think of you often, wondering how mothering 4 has been…maybe i need to make time to read blogs more. 🙂 love to each of you!