Moving Day

Today Raymond is moving out of our home. He and his fiance, Kara, have purchased a home not far from here and a truck has been rented to transport his accumulated possessions to their new setting. For those of you keeping track of such things, Raymond is moving in now and Kara will move in after they are married.

Nancy and I have been through this before when Matthew married Bethany. We have loaded up all of the boxes, moved them into a new residence, provided the tools used for hanging pictures and assembling the various pieces of furniture . . . you know the drill. Yet, each move is different. Between Matthew and Raymond, Nancy and I have participated in nearly twenty different moves already, most of which were to dorms rooms on college campuses. But, when the move is made to a 'residence' other than our own home, there is a deep stirring of permanency which gives a parent reason to pause and try to lock 'final things' in time.

I walked into Raymond's packed-up room last evening and smiled at all the exposed plaque and picture hangers on the walls. Though I have never counted them, there are in the neighborhood of thirty hangers around the room which displayed his Student of the Year plaques, advertisements from the High School musicals he was a part of, various music and athletic awards, and pictures from homecomings and proms throughout the years. His older brother has long referred to the room as 'Raymond's Shrine' and, whether that is accurate or not, it is a recording of a little over two decades of living.

Odd thing though, as I stood there last night looking at all the empty hangers naked to the world on the wall, it was as if I could still see all the pictures and plaques still there. Even removed from sight and boxed for the move, those moments in time recorded for prosperity still were present and accounted for in the order in which they occurred. Maybe moving out isn't the same as leaving . . . and, now that I think of it, the same is true of Matt's rooms in our home: though year's have passed since he moved out to begin his life with Bethany, in this parent's mind and heart, the collage of his life under our roof and in our care are still carefully preserved in the places of this parent's love.

Maybe that is the way it is with God and all God's children. We are born into God's household, grow up in God's care, achieve in whatever ways we are gifted, and hang the testimonies to our journey and explorations upon the walls of God's heart. Then, when we believe ourselves ready, we declare ourselves independent and move out into the world to make our own way, not understanding until much, much later that, no matter where we move or how far we believe ourselves to have gone, we are still very intimately bound in love and tenderness in the heart and soul of the One who has birthed us from the beginning of time. The remnants of our life are still hanging in the living memory of God's mind as God savors those moments when closely we walked together. Like the return of the Prodigal Son, that is what makes the love of a parent and the lives of their children so poignant: When lived out in the fullness of love, it makes no difference how far the wanderings or what the events, we always have a place and time to which to return, for in the Parent's heart we will never ever have departed. We are always in God's love.

Today we pack up Raymond's belongings, even as we tightly clutch to the spirit of his love and laughter which will always abide in our hearts. Though our children may move out of our home, they can never leave the depths of our soul, for as surely as we are in the Spirit of the One who has given us life, so our children will never go so far that they are beyond the embrace of our care and love. Like his brother before him, Raymond will find his way and, in God's Presence, will live the wonder of what God has in store for him . . . . and, like his brother before him, he will leave our home, but he can never leave our hearts.

Thanks be to God for the simple gift of a parent's life for there is so much to be learned, so much to be celebrated, each step of the way. It is, as 'The Lion King' aptly pronounces, "The circle of life." May God's Circle guard and guide our children wherever the Spirit leads them that they, too, may in their own time stand in the doorway of their children's lives and ponder the sacred understandings of what it means to let them leave, but never let them go.

Your servant in Christ,

Pastor Don