By Jim Nichols

It is an experience many of us have had, probably several times. We look around the house or apartment one last time and it is empty—empty of all the physical items that belong to us anyway. We are moving. That is a strange feeling.

One of the common shared human experiences is moving from one place of home or work to another. If ever there is an event that brings a mixture of excitement, trepidation, joy, and fear, it must be moving. U-Haul once had an advertising slogan that showed one of their trailers or trucks and the tagline “Adventures in Moving.” Many of us, upon seeing that slogan, have shaken our heads, and thought, “Sure, an adventure I do not want to have again soon.”

It is hard to imagine any piece of human civilization that has not faced the need or desire to move. Indeed, a major feature of our religious history is the Exodus.

Modern American moving has certain characteristics that almost all of us have faced for better or worse. It might have started out small personally, but it has grown into a task of generous size, has it not?

My own adventure began with the start of college 700 miles from my home of origin. My father was an expert packer of the trunk of the family car, but it became apparent early in the preparation that I would need to ship a small amount of stuff ahead to an acquaintance already in the college town. That should have been a warning to me of things to come. 

Once you add a spouse or roommate moving with you, matters increase in complication. If a significant distance is involved, a rental trailer behind a sufficient vehicle can be employed. Rent it in this city and return it at the destination. At first it could be a small three’ by five’ trailer; subsequent moves require larger trailers. Be sure you understand how to attach the trailer on the car hitch; learn how to back up the trailer by turning the opposite direction with the car. Matters become more complicated with more contents.

With a move in town, the pickup truck brigade becomes the choice. This requires less packing skill, but more vehicles and more muscle power. Many of us have been involved in numerous such events receiving from or giving aid to friends during a move. On a sweltering day (why do we always move in the summer?), we sweat together and eat pizza afterward. There is an element of fun and camaraderie that is memorable. Announcing a “moving party” brings out an interesting set of helpers; clearly, this is an event that many have shared in their past.

Moving is a physical event. The task of getting a refrigerator or sofa from an apartment into the truck and then into the next apartment or house requires not only strength, but agility and skill. Fortunately, some of the friend helpers usually seem enthusiastic and adept at this. They get extra pizza.

Despite the excitement of the moving event, there is a more sobering aspect that begins creeping in with each subsequent move. We wonder how we ever got so much stuff and why we have some of it. 

Of course, some of it seems reasonable and necessary. To help a single male from out of town move into an apartment, I organized a moving team to help unload his U-Haul. We were primed to expend energy and found that his trailer was void of anything except boxes. There was no furniture, not even a bed. He was not moving into a furnished apartment, either.

As we look around the room where we are sitting, it is hard to ask, “Do I value this stuff too much?” There are necessities, yes, but what about the rest?

With many moves and many years in our past, it does give us pause about our material blessings and objects. If I have a countable number of years ahead, can I learn something in advance by my moving experiences of the past? Am I willing to encounter the emotionally draining aspects of reviewing where I am placing value in my life? Is this item necessary? Is this beautiful? Is this uplifting? Does this remind me of God?

Jim Nichols is a retired Abilene Christian University biology professor and current hospital chaplain