A big yellow moving truck pulled into the neighborhood this morning. Moving Day has come. It’s hard to believe we must go now. We’ve been thinking about this day for some time now, dreading it. We wanted the Mission Home to be in perfect form for the departing and arriving missionaries this week, so we’ve only slightly prepared to move out, waiting for transfers to end yesterday afternoon.
We spent last evening packing. The first thing I did was take down the quilts. Quilts make a home, and I knew I couldn’t bear to leave here as long as the quilts were still hanging. Once they came down, I started to let go, the home became a house, and I could move through it, taking things apart. Funny how things like that matter to me.
The gathering of our things began:
President Lewis spent most of the day in his office, sorting, organizing, and preparing for Pres Jackman to come.
The movers worked with us, filling boxes.
The Assistants dropped by to pick out their ties. Pres Lewis gives each Assistant a tie of their choice when they leave. But this time he is leaving. They stayed for lunch and helped us eat more leftovers out of the fridge. Then they did us the favor of taking home all of our bits and pieces of unfinished things from the fridge and freezer. Sorting talks and materials used in 3 years of teaching and training:
All the beds will be changed and laundered. Everything will be made new again before the Jackmans arrive. We will move to a hotel tonight and the cleaning crews will come in tomorrow and work this week to make the home clean and spotless.
By 4:30 or so, all we owned, except for the few things we’ll need this week, was loaded into the moving truck and taken away. It will be delivered to our home in Orem a few days after we get home.
This afternoon, after all was gone, we both sat at our computers, the last things standing, and we went back to work. We worked all through the afternoon and evening, until late tonight. Here is a last look at the Mission Home now, before I unplug. We have loved it here. It’s hard to go.
Farewell, dear Mission Home, Farewell. Our presence has gone from this home, but not our memories of what happened here.
This hotel room will be our home for our last week here. Away Sweet Away.