Greetings from Music City

It’s been a surreal week….. ……….. The movers carted off my stuff so I spent several days camping out in my own home, bedding down on the (dirty) carpet in a $10 camouflage sleeping bag and living out of a suitcase………Abel and Abel, the father and son combo who loaded up my furniture, have also moved Michael Jackson, several Playboy playmates, Steven Seagal (“his stuff filled up two trucks!”), and Chuck Norris. You’d think Walker, Texas Ranger would drive his own moving van, but whatever…….My next door neighbor, who has had a crush on me for three years and who I’ve tried to avoid for three years, taped a long, rambling letter on my front door asserting that we are “twin personalities.”

It’s been a frustrating week……… For one thing, Blogger isn’t working–I actually wrote this several days ago…….For another, somebody hacked into my ebay account and now I’m fighting with them to avoid paying the $50 in fees this person racked up by listing 48 box set DVDs for sale from my account…….For a third, when you call a customer service line and they ask you to punch in your account number followed by the pound sign, why does the “Customer Care Representative” still ask you for that account number when they finally come on the line? I especially enjoyed the call where I tried to transfer my long-distance service to my new Nashville number; I spent 10 minutes listening to merengue music after which Ron the CCR came back on the line to tell me I’d actually need to call back in “about a week” to complete the transaction………..The heat went out in my apartment about the same time as my furniture did, creating a chilly, this-really-is-like-camping-because-it’s-50-degrees feeling to the evenings…….While backing my car out of an unfamiliar parking spot to drive it out front for the moving van, I hit a tree. I’m not kidding…….And a few minutes later the annoying neighbor called since I hadn’t responded to his letter. “I don’t want you to leave carrying this burden of our unresolved relationship,” he said. Since I wasn’t aware we had a relationship, I assured him I was carrying no burden–and then blocked his number on my phone.

But it’s been a good week because God showed up, often through the care of other people. Friends helped me pack up my grandmother’s china, paid for me to visit a spa, mailed me a “welcome to your new home” package, and left me thoughtful, kind email and voice mail messages on Thursday and Friday as I traveled east. One let me vent a week’s worth of pent-up frustration over the phone and still invited me over for a homemade dinner. And two brave souls took me, two 50-pound bags, and a panicky cat to the airport at the crack of dawn. Last Sunday I worshipped and wept my way through my last service at the church I’ve grown to love. We sang “Enough,” my very favorite chorus, and it seemed like a message from the God who knows me so well and knows how to communicate with me.

All of You is more than enough for all of me, for every thirst and every need. You satisfy me with your love, and all I have in You is more than enough.

No matter what this new place holds in store for me, God will be more than enough for me. Which is a good thing, actually, since Abel-squared lost one of my chairs and part of my coffee table.

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