This will be the Year of the Great Transition in my family.
Already, my parents have closed down their church congregation to merge with another church. My parents met at this congregation when they were 16 years old. They got married in that church building. When you touch the walls in that place, you’re touching my family’s heart and soul. My great grandpa even built the church building where we attended all these years.
In addition to that, my parents are selling their house, and will likely be moving in the next month or so.
We moved into this house when I was in the 11th grade. After college and a couple of years of living out on my own, I moved back home for four years before getting married (surprising, I know, that I couldn’t afford a lavish home on a newspaper reporter’s salary).
It’s a great home; I will miss it dearly.
The process on both ends has been painful for my parents; but all the changes are needed. Unfortunate, but needed.
So often, that’s how I feel about change. Unfortunate, but needed.
This weekend, I visited my parents, who are doing some purging to get rid of unnecessary stuff in the house. I happen to be a bit of a hoarder.
I threw away old soccer jerseys, t-shirts and trinkets I had from high school. When I started, there was about five boxes and a tub. I refined my haul to a few items that now sit in that tub.
Tossing memories in the trash was a little painful. Unfortunate. But needed.
While change and transition can be hard, I find comfort in remembering that memories never reside in a physical church building, or in a house or in a soccer shirt. They live in the people we shared such good moments with in that church building. They live in laughs we had at home. They live in the people I wore those soccer shirts with.
Those memories never have to transition or change. Thank goodness.
And the best thing about memories?
There is always room to make more.