i started cleaning out my room and packing some things in boxes this past saturday. i'm not moving for another month, but i'm only bringing what fits in my car and that means i'm going to have to get rid of a lot of stuff. (and seeing what it looks like in boxes really puts into perspective just how much stuff i'm going to have to get rid of.) that process is what's going to take a month. i mean, i worked on it for about two hours on saturday and then stopped. packing the contents of your life into boxes while trying to decide what to keep and what to get rid of is hard.
i feel like the reality of what i'm doing keeps hitting me over and over. i won't be here when my friends get married this summer, i won't be here for father's day or heather's birthday or any birthday after that, i won't be here for day trips to the beach or weekly dinners at T's. every day that passes brings a whole new list of things that i will be leaving.
sometimes i wonder if i'm totally crazy for trading such a great (and comfortable) life for something so unknown, and so far away. i'm doing it because i feel like God has called me there and it makes sense in the big picture that He sees–which is amazing and exciting. but the little pictures that i see are what catch me. all the little things that make up my life are going to change and that's what's scary.
i may be over thinking this (no surprise there), but cleaning out my room and putting things in boxes feels less like simply packing my stuff to move and more like making decisions about which parts of my life are important enough to keep and which parts aren't. it feels like i'm learning some kind of lesson about what it means to really let go of the past by letting go of all this stuff i've been keeping.
for example, i was in drama club in high school and i still have the scripts from the plays i was in all four years. i don't look at them or even open them, ever. but i keep them because when i'm cleaning or something and i come across them again, it's nice to remember the good times i had at rehearsals and on opening night and during our "DCRs" (drama club reunions). when i throw those scripts away, it's like i'm throwing those memories away. because how else am i going to be reminded of those times?
it sounds silly–mainly because it is–but people don't tell you these things about growing up. about how life just keeps going and going and the next thing you know, it's been five years since you were in high school, even though you can't imagine that it's been more than a year or two.
ironically, one of the plays i was in was called "you can't take it with you." which was about life and how you can't take anything with you when you die. now, i'm not dying–just moving, but i'm realizing how much i'm trying to hold on to and how seemingly pointless it is.
in conclusion, this whole packing process is hard. and apparently i miss high school drama club.