In fact, many of the boxes we're using are labeled from the last move only a year and a half ago. Up to this point she has done 95% of the packing. Late nights after long days. My schedule in this season is particularly brutal. Long days on top of short nights. I've not been much help.
Moving is exhausting: mentally, emotionally, physically and because of this we become spiritually tested and tempted and tired. Simply exhausted.
There's something deeply spiritual about moving. It's symbolic of the Christian life - on the one hand we're partaking already in the eternal kingdom...yet on the other hand we haven't experienced it in full.
The Israelites sought out the promised land and while they never fully moved into the entirety of that land it was only a temporary gathering place for His people anyhow.
Paul calls our bodies tents. Temporary structures awaiting an eternal home.
Jesus didn't claim a home here either. His home was in heaven and while on earth he travelled and moved.
My family is moving. We aren't going home. We're resettling temporarily in order live in our world more effectively. Though it's stressful and exhausting at times moving has been a healthy reminder of what's worth clinging to: Christ/comfort. His Kingdom/my kingdom. Mine is incredibly fleeting and nomadic. His is eternal and static.
'I saw the Holy City...coming down out of heaven from God...Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God.' Revelation 21:1-4)
We are moving...though not to the perfect domain. While the Kingdom of Heaven is a here and now/then and there reality...I'm really looking forward to the then and there. No more boxes.