Change

When I was 10, we moved from our home in Black River to Junction where my mom had a new job as the resident clinician and healthcare provider for the community. At 16, I moved from Jamaica to the States. As a military family, we moved around to different duty stations. More recently, we have made a few moves for my work as a healthcare executive.

Moving is exhausting.

Each move represented a change…a significant change. I am reluctant to admit that while change is hard it is also a gift. Every time we changed addresses, we gained new relationships, new experiences, and new perspectives. Our world became bigger, and our understanding of the world expanded along with it. We are more compassionate and less judgmental; more generous and less afraid; more patient and more hopeful. 

As we pack boxes once again, Tex and I are speculating that this will be the last “big move.” Our conversations drift to contemplations of what life would be like if we never left Pensacola or Virginia Beach. We create stories in our imaginations about what a future in Lancaster would look like. We’ll never know what would have been. What we do know is what has been and what is. Beautiful memories from each place flood our minds, and we realize that if we had stayed “there” we wouldn’t have had the memories “here.” We are the product of our diverse experiences in all those places. Our lives have been enriched by the people we’ve known and the places we’ve called home.

It takes energy and effort, and lots of grace to change our address. I’m exhausted just thinking about it!  However, I am grateful for the gift of change.