The process of moving is anxiety laden at its core. There is the basic packing that gets done along with the needed purging of what does and doesn’t “spark joy” in one’s life. The house gets disorganized with the clutter of moving boxes and other supplies with the hope that at some point the tide will change and the space will start looking habitable again. When I was young and single, moving consisted of moving a room...now I have a house, a wife, a kid, 2 cats, and a dog. So yeah, it’s a bit more complicated than it used to be.
One of the stressers of moving if you own a home is getting the property ready to sell. All the projects that Lauren and I wanted to do are finally getting done and we’ll only be around another month to enjoy them. Meh. We had some minor things fixed, like some outdoor electrical outlets and new boards replaced on the back deck. Then the kitchen got a nice new counter top and back splash. Everything went smooth until our “small bathroom project” turned into a complete remodel. Fair warning: when you start ripping up and tearing down stuff like floors and walls be prepared to keep ripping.
During this process we’ve had a slew of people in and out of the house. Our contractor has been here everyday making sure his teams are on top of everything and trying to get us back in our main bathroom as quick as possible. We’ve had some great conversations around all sorts of topics while he’s been around, but one the other day resonated with me on a theological level and I’ve been pondering it over ever since.
We were talking about weight loss or something to that effect and I mentioned my story of shedding those extra pounds last year. I listed a few things I’ve done and joked about switching from beer to whiskey. He mentioned he was more of a tequila drinker, but liked a whiskey as well. I asked if he had tried any whiskey from a local distillery here in Winston Salem, to which he gave this taken back expression accompanied with a slight smile.
“Nah man, I don’t drink that stuff. I got a fella who makes this real deal stuff up in the mountains. Straight moonshine. Hell, why would I drink anything else when I can get that.” Touche’ brother.
This contractor reminded me that morning of what I often consume to be a manufactured product, plastered with a fancy label, and which is often put together by a slick marketing team.
And I’m not talking about Jack Daniel’s whiskey.
I’m talking about a mass marketed form of Christianity.
This idea hit me like a shot of whiskey; with a warm sensation going down into my being and leaving me slightly light headed. It also left me wanting more.
Here’s to finding the real stripped down authentic “stuff” where we can.
As you were,