It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like ... Virginia

In October of this year both Claudia and I were settled in for years to come.  We were both contentedly employed, all twelve of our children were within two hour's drive, and our grandchildren were readily accessible.  We were living in a first-ring suburb of Minneapolis, enjoying the changing diversity of our neighborhood.  Our house was a little small for all of the inhabitants, but we looked forward to the day when our young adult children would gain greater independence and move from the nest, leaving us with just enough space to anticipate retirement in another ten to fifteen years.

But then our plans were interrupted.  Out of the blue Claudia received an invitation to consider a new opportunity as Chief Program Officer for a family services agency doing precisely what she has loved doing for years, without the drain of necessary, but tedious, responsibilities that were not her personal passions.  At first the opportunity seemed unlikely, especially since it would require a move from Minnesota, where we have lived for almost more than twenty years as a couple, to the Commonwealth of Virginia.

From the very beginning she solicited my input, of course, and step by step we have discerned that this would be an opportunity too good to pass up.  We have prayerfully discerned, gradually shared the news with those most likely to be affected by our move, and concluded that these open doors are ones we should walk through.

Thursday was Claudia's last work day.  On Saturday she cleaned out her office and said goodbye for a final time to one of her former employees.  Today was my last Sunday at the church I have served for the past three-and-a-half years.  This afternoon she and I have worked together with several of our children to pack her most important belongings for the trip she will take early in the morning.

She and our second-youngest son (plus our two dogs) will leave snow-covered, fifteen-degree Minneapolis, headed toward central Virginia, where she anticipates arrival on Tuesday with temperatures in the 70s.  In four weeks' time our youngest son and I will close the doors for the final time on our home in Robbinsdale, and we will join our much reduced-in-size family in Virginia.

It's not like this is the first time we've moved.  As an itinerant preacher in the United Methodist "connection," I have moved our family in faithful response to the invitation of our Bishops over the past twenty years.  Each move has been a new adventure, filled with challenges as well as opportunities.  We have met lovely people in each of our pastoral appointments, and each time we travel on we leave behind gracious and loving people who have helped to form that stage of our lives.

Now the reality of our move is hitting me in a  very real way.  Tonight is the last time that Claudia and I will share our bed in Minneapolis.  Tomorrow we will be living apart for several weeks until we are reunited in a completely new place, very much different from the Minnesota we have known for years.

We will miss the immediate contact we have with our family members and friends.  We will face the disorientation of new communities ensconced in layers of culture unique from what we have known.  We will find ourselves in new homes (more on that later), with new faces and names to learn and enjoy.

It's beginning to look a lot like Virginia.  And, with God's grace, it's beginning to look like another new place to love.