Saturday morning I awoke to see two moving vans parked in front of my house. The neighbors across the street were moving. They had a lease to purchase arrangement that apparently didn't work out for either party. Still, it was surprising to see the moving vans because I thought they intended to stay. The effects of the coronavirus has made getting acquainted with the neighbors challenging. We've had very few conversations. We did take cookies over for Christmas. The husband worked on swimming pools and replaced my circulating pump this winter, and I had other pool projects in mind with warmer temperatures. But they are gone, and left the welcome sign behind. The high school senior who lived here is supposed to graduate next Friday. I grieve for their changes.
I moved a lot growing up. And shortly, also, after my graduation from high school. And I spent too many Mays packing to move to a new pastoral appointment in June. I think of all those who have transitions approaching.
I'm reminded too of all those around the world on the move, escaping war, and famine, and disease, and oppression. So much is left behind. I grieve for all I left behind. But I treasure the memories of friends, and shared meals, and laughter. I would have taken the welcome sign with me!