Goodbye

I hate moving. Did I mention that I hate moving? Over the course of the 5-6 weeks of packing and moving, I became a regular at the ABC store (sad, but true. Why is it that they have the best boxes, and always seem to have a fresh supply?). When I walked in the door I was greeted with a big friendly, "Howdy Pastor! Just help yourself! You know where to find them!" On many occasions, my deacons had to do a double take (joke).

My father-in-law was awesome during this time. He parked his 24-foot covered trailer in our yard so we could pack as we went along. After about a week of packing we had a full load, so he came back up and towed it to the new place (yet another blessing of living in parsonages - typically the old pastor has already gone, so you can go ahead and start moving early). We loaded up that trailer one more time for the final move date.

Our last goodbye at the church was tearful and joyful. Eight years brings many memories. We saw people won to Christ, many funerals, many births, many emergency room visits, many counseling sessions, many birthday parties. We went on mission trips, vacations, and retreats together. God blessed.