Previous Challenge Entry (Level 1 – Beginner)
Topic: Breathe (08/19/10)
TITLE: The Chore of Moving
By Christine Ramey
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Boxes lined my living room floor on the day I had to move. I was in an awkward situation as I was separating from my husband. The move was tough on me that day. I watched as the movers grabbed each box swiftly as if it was a marathon of sorts. While I sat in my chair watching them I tried to hide my tears I wanted so much to cry. I saw the remaining pictures on the wall and looked around the empty room wondering what was next in my life.
I knew in my heart it was the right thing to do but thoughts crept into my mind as I sat there unable to do anymore until we arrived at my parent’s house.
Finally, all of the boxes had been packed into the van within a thirty minute period and the movers told me it was time to go.
My heart sunk but relief I felt as I looked once more and turned to the door leaving the rest behind. I slammed the door shut and I walked toward the car. It was the first time in years that I felt as though my weight I had carried had been lifted from my shoulders. I could suddenly breathe again for the first time in years! It was amazing.
I listened to my Christian CD and crying all the way to my parent’s house; which was a forty-five minute drive from my house. This verse sustained me as I drove along those roads that day. It wasn’t long that we pulled into the driveway of my new home. The tears that I’d been shedding finally seemed to disappear.
I couldn’t believe I was on a new journey. A journey, to be transformed. This was my mission in life. I couldn’t do this due to the circumstances of my marriage made it impossible for me to serve Him the way I needed too.
I got out of the car and had my father come out to direct the guys to the front steps of our house. They got out once the truck had stopped and then began the moving again.
They were quick and I had to admit that but then it came time for them to move my couch. I squelched as I watched them try to carry this thing upstairs to my middle room that would become my living room.
See, my parents had created a whole one bedroom apartment upstairs for me to live. It was a place that I could stay close if I got sick or needed help. I am a Type 1 Diabetic and have other health issues so this was a necessity.
I watched eagerly as they guided the couch up the stairs almost hitting the banister and knocking it over a couple of times. Things didn’t look good. They arrived at the top of the stairs and guided it toward my bedroom and tried to ease it into the doorway. The doorway was too small.
“Man, this isn’t going to fit.” The mover guy announced. My dad in the other room came and peeked out the door to have a look. “This is not going in there.” He yelled downstairs to my mother. “What? It won’t fit? What do we do now?” She asked concerned.
“See if any of the other couches will work up here or we will have to go without.” My dad replied to her. “Okay, they need to come down stairs and I’ll show them.” Mom answered.
So, the guys responded by sliding the couch around and pulling on it until it moved out of the way. Only when they did they pocked a whole in the ceiling.
The couch was taken back downstairs and another one was brought upstairs. It fit much better and was actually a nicer couch. So it all worked out even with the rough spots.
The movers had finally gone home and I sat on the stairs thinking. Mom came by and asked me, “How do you feel now?” “I can breathe again! Now, it is just getting this boxes unpacked.” I replied.
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