I think we can all agree that moving isn’t a lot of fun, particularly when one moves an extreme distance, say 8,000 miles, and it involves a large body of water and multiple continents. (Yes, I know you must have all those conditions to have multiple continents when originating from the United States.)
Perhaps because of my involvement with the liturgy committee, last year I became obsessed with finding the prayer book I received at confirmation. I was certain that it was packed in the boxes I had shipped. I was positive. I was so excited when my boxes finally arrived, partly because it was lovely to be reunited with my stuff (which only emphasized what an American I am), but partly because the boxes contained my prayer book.
Except that they didn’t. I wondered if someone broke into the boxes and stole it. The boxes certainly weren’t in the pristine condition in which I had shipped them, though they held up well across the distance and oceans and continents. Why someone would take a prayer book is beyond me, but hey. Stranger things have happened.
One of my missions in Virginia was to obtain my recipe box, which I knew I had left here, and search for the prayer book. Now the search was a matter of principle, and no small bit of sentimentality. In searching my mind, I thought perhaps it was in a certain bag.
Except that it wasn’t in the bag. I was so disappointed, but kept on with my visit here, and realized that soon I have to leave, and if I wanted my recipe box, I needed to get it out.
Guess what I found! My prayer book! Hallelujah!! And a beautiful pashmina, and a Biblical Greek cheat sheet, and a bunch of other things that I wish would fit in my suitcase.
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