Lost in the Move

You search for your phone charger, sure you packed it in your computer bag, but it’s not there. It seems to have gotten lost in the move. 

There’s this great pair of pants that you haven’t seen in years; maybe they got lost in the move and were never recovered? 

It seemed completely logical to pack my spare car key in my desk drawer at the time, because surely I would open that frequently enough to remember it was there, but when I needed it I forgot to look there and was absolutely convinced it had been lost in the move. Apparently the next time I stumbled upon that key I put it in an even more fool-proof, highly logical place, because I can’t find it for the life of me. 

“Did you bring the outlines?”
“I printed them… But they got lost in the move. Sorry.”
An exchange such as this has become something of an inside joke here in Buffalo. So many people have moved over the past several months, and so many of those moves have been in and out of each other’s homes, that it’s been like a game of musical houses. 

People move and change frequently in life. No. Constantly. We are all in a constant state of change. Sometimes it happens at a breakneck speed, and we think, “Surely this time, this much change will kill me,” but somehow, we survive. Sometimes it’s so gradual that we don’t even notice, until suddenly we look around and aren’t sure where we are or what we may have lost in the move.

Over the past few years, I have made several overlapping moves, some literal, some figurative. I have moved from single to married (with a few obvious steps in between), from an over-caffeinated, sleep-deprived college student to a graduate caught in the limbo of “What do I do now?”, from my parents’ house in Toledo to the Browns’ house in Buffalo to the house I now share with my husband in Buffalo, from a commuter student to a housewife. Along the way, much was gained. But some things were lost as well. My swimming goggles, for instance. I have no idea where those went. My student health insurance. My status as a dependent in my parents’ household. The closeness in my relationship with my best girlfriend.

I am truly ashamed to admit that I let her be misplaced in all these moves I've made. As I focused more on preparing for marriage, moving to a new state, figuring out student-teaching, finishing school, and creating a new home, I focused less and less on the friend who had always been the first person I talked to about anything before this whirlwind of change began. Change is natural. When you don’t see your parents face to face every day, your relationship is bound to change. You have to adjust to your circumstances and find new ways to communicate. When you get married, your relationships with your best friends as a single person will alter somehow; it’s up to you to make those changes positive. It’s impractical to still have sleepovers every weekend at your girlfriends' houses. Your husband might feel neglected. It’s especially hard to maintain the habits of your friendship when you’re three states and three hours apart. So what do you do? Do you simply turn aside as your friendship disintegrates? Do you pray for a miracle? Do you shrug your shoulders and chalk it up to another thing lost in the move?

Lucky for me, Kayla is very stubborn. Throughout all of my changing and moving and figuring out life, she waited. When I was buried in student teaching and wedding planning, she waited. Though she was terribly hurt and unfairly neglected, she waited. She prayed. We would talk and both feel confused and accused and wounded. We prayed and cried together. We prayed and cried separately. We tried to read books together and set schedules to talk. We talked again and cried some more. We got angry, we tried harder, we nearly gave up, we apologized. It usually seemed like nothing helped and nothing changed between us except that more bitterness accumulated in the chasm that was growing between us. For whatever reason, bridges simply refused to be built. There were a lot of reasons, but no excuses. Through it all, neither of us completely threw in the towel. Kayla waited for me to pull my head out of the sand, settle down, and get incredibly lonely.

And I did.

And even with the mountain of regret and sorrow between us, she was there when I looked around, wondered where I was, and started to take inventory of the things that I lost in the move. There is remorse and that unattainable wish to go back and change the past, but there is also forgiveness. By the grace of God, we know how to forgive and love and support each other despite our track record.

Like those favorite pants that seemed to be gone forever but were really just tucked into the wrong box in the wrong closet, some things are never really lost in the move. Kayla’s friendship couldn’t be shaken enough to be lost forever. It is rooted too deeply, anchored by the love of Christ. I am indescribably thankful to be so blessed by having this girl in my life.

Thank you Kayla, for waiting so long. I don’t know what I would do without you.

“Love is patient, love is kind… It keeps no record of wrongs… It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.” 1 Corinthians 13:4-8, excerpts. NIV.