Memoirs of Moving in College

We write this blog post for those who will be, or are in the process of, moving. It strikes a chord for both of us, as we have both experienced moving and the feeling of being caught in between two places. What follows in a reflection (Lissy) and a few observations (Kyle): please read, enjoy, comment below!



I am moving in six days. I can only take a suitcase weighing less than 23 kilograms. That equals about 50.7 pounds; I had to look it up online. In the style of a typical young adult, I will be moving for the fifth time this summer. All of these moves have proved difficult and draining. We have to laugh at ourselves in college, I know, and at this ridiculous, transitory way of life.

I am moving to Italy for four months, to a city resting on a steep hill that overlooks valleys and farmland. My emotions slide up and down the spectrum minute by minute, from great fear to great excitement, and back again, as my necessaries collect in a suitcase in a corner of the living room.
In all this moving, I discover myself a bit more. Moving peels away my layers. It digs up my roots and exposes their tenderness.

I realize this: I love my places. I love my things. I love being surrounded by familiarity, like baby roots love hiding in soft, dark soil. When I am told to move and make yet another home and wait for the dreadful unfamiliar to slowly become known, I dig in my heels.

I am still a child when it comes to moving: Little Lissy, with her fluffy hair and floral dresses, wonders how she will ever pack up her oversize cookbooks in the suitcase, and if her friends will still think of her when she is on the other side of the cold saltwater. She pouts. She asks God why she is going to beautiful Italy. I bet he tries not to laugh.

I realize this: we so easily cling to the gifts. The good and beautiful gifts that he gives. But we forget the Giver. He loves our places and our things but he wants our love more than anything.
So he sends us out to new and strange places. I pack my things in a suitcase and say goodbye and maybe lose my suitcase along the way, so that I can find him, the certainty in uncertainty, the most familiar face in a sea of unfamiliar.

Lissy is moving in a week’s time. Even her absence is something like a move for me, as we got to see each other almost every single day this summer. Since I’m not moving, I hope to write about moving itself: why it’s so challenging, what I have learned. Moving is a humbling experience.

1. Moving is about the transition; it is about the time spent in between two places, including the moments before you leave and moments after you arrive. Moving involves both motion and stagnancy; it is situational: bound to time, space, and person.
2. During a move, home is suspended in anticipation. Home is the place we find belonging. As a teacher of mine once said, “The world is where you talk to be known, home is where you speak because you are known.” We attach meaning to make a home a home—otherwise it is only a house, or an apartment, or a dorm room. With boxes packed, our identities can feel like they are in transit during and after a move.
3. However, we all experience change and have lived to tell the tale. There are small "movements" throughout our lives. For example, our relationships (the everyday sort-of ones) evolve. This is change that we adapt to. As we grow up, we push against our stabilizing environment. Wisdom must anticipate those movements and prepare us in advance for them.
4. Moving unearths our interior lives (as well as everything else in the attic), providing opportunities to reflect. As I moved last year, I was overwhelmed by a childhood box, which contained remnants of the first ten years of my life. Outside of the context of the big move I would never have looked inside that box. Moving is not impersonal, but deeply personal. Yes, moving can peel us away from our “possessions” and unearth the hidden idols we attach to them.
5. Moving refines us. When you ask the question, “What will I leave behind and what will I take with me?,” you’re getting at this idea.  Of course you’ll bring a toothbrush, but what about your painful “baggage.” When you move, you have to choose to respond to things you’ve unearthed in yourself.  Painful memories, for example, I have to choose to bring with me in the move, revealing them time and time again to others in hopes of real healing. Push against the temptation to disguise your vulnerability. It will be a “chance to remake yourself,” some will tell you, but I’d say it’s a “chance to become more authentic.”

If I had any real advice I would say to have grace on yourself and give yourself time to readjust to a new place. Since we are creatures of habit and culture, and our community and all of our habits are drastically changed during a move, we need time to allow ourselves to reestablish habits in our lives. You are still the same person. Be curious on your own terms once you have moved in. Position yourself to be welcomed, invited, and embraced as a guest into a community over which others have already laid claims. Pray often and slowly learn to invite others into your own space.