Ken has always been there when we moved.  He didn't box anything up, but he carried things and moved things for me as we got ready.  This is the first move I have made by myself.  I have missed him being here to help.

And--I have been anxious about it all.  Probably because of the nineteen moves I have made in the past.  I always wonder what the movers will smash.  I know they will, it's just a matter of what.

One move we made, the movers packed the van, locked the doors and were getting in the cab.  I wasn't there at the time, but our next door neighbor asked them if they had forgotten to pack our two metal trash cans.

The mover looked at her, picked up a sledge hammer, smashed both cans flat, strapped them on the back of the truck and said:  "Have her take that out of the insurance.

The Marine Corps wives had a certain "Line" they liked to tell you.  "Three moves is like one good fire."  I agree with that.  If you got caught up in what would go wrong, you would go crazy.

I have a zillion moving stories.  So I am admitting that I am a little anxious.  But whatever they break, I know it is just stuff.  I am putting everything that I really care about in the car with me. And that's not much.  It's amazing how little counts when you are my age.

In Matthew 8:20, Jesus said, "...the foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests; but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay His head."  I have a wonderful home to move into.  I don't have to wonder where I am going to sleep--where I am going to lay my head.  I am blessed.  God is good.