It’s nearly August, and I’m still consumed by this move.

Because a move isn’t really just a move, is it? It’s a chaotic shift to our foundational that forces us to assess every single item in our homes and decide not just whether to move it, but where it should belong if we do and what should happen to it if we don’t.

It’s been seven years since the last time I dug through my possessions and spent so much time thinking about my resources, my values and my identity.

This time feels different because I am different.

During my last move, I was a newly divorced parent of two elementary school-aged children with no clue that my 30s would hold the loss of a parent, a change in my spiritual outlook and a departure from my traditional journalism career.

Now, I’m on the cusp of a new decade, a new marriage and several new careers that feel more like a calling than a job.

And yet here I am, scraping paint off the floor, wondering when I am ever going to feel truly settled again.

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