About 26 hours from now, I'll be at Memphis International Airport, out of which I've flown scores of times, but almost never for an international journey. This time is different. Not only will I be leaving the country, I'll be staying gone, if all is well, for almost a year. Personally, unprecedented.
This has required me to fully move out of my condo, in which I have lived for almost nine years. The few of you who've been over can imagine the unbelievable adventure that cleaning it out and making it ready for a new tenant or owner (interested? It's available!!) has been. As I've made (tried to make, at least) the condo clean and clear, while also spending time with friends and family before I go, I've been struck (actually struck! Right over the head! Okay, fine. Figuratively.) with renewed recognition of long-established priorities.
As the moments tick toward departure, I feel less and less connected to the stuff that has surrounded me in my home. What I saved over the years and carefully sorted weeks ago, I am now giving away and throwing away freely and gladly. Way too much stuff! Why did I save it? Why did I want it? Why did I care? And the things of which I am now in the final stages of ridding myself, when in disorder (which, let's be honest, was pretty regularly) often kept me from inviting friends and family over and spending time with them in my home.
As the moments tick toward takeoff, I feel more and more connected to the people in my life. To family and close friends, sure, but to others who've played smaller, even miniscule roles in my daily life, too. As much as I may love my telescoping fork (and I do really love it!), or my little plastic toilet that squirts you with water when you open the lid (caught it once at a Mardi Gras parade), or my approximately 1.7 million t-shirts (I was going to say billion, but I didn't want to exaggerate), I'm realizing again what I've always known deep down. My "valuables" are people. My friends, family, co-workers, and acquaintances, each of whom brushes his own vividly colored strokes onto my life's canvas with her actions, words, companionship, humor, emotions, and thoughts.
Don't worry, wonderful people of my life. I do not plan to box you up and stack you in my parents' playroom/office like my Burger King costume and so many other ridiculous items that now reside there. I do, however, plan to continue treasuring you and being thankful that you choose to share some of the moments of your life being in mine.
Oh, and I plan to harrass you about coming to visit me in Israel this year. Book your flights! Oh, and if you're coming, can you stop by my parents' house and get that fork for me?
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1 comment:
Your first sermon - already written
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