I really don’t like to pack. I remember when I moved almost every six months, right after I left the Army. I could put everything I owned in my car and move, all by myself, into a new apartment. Those days are long gone.

Before I moved the last time, Maryssa and I gave away most of our “stuff” or had garage sales. I was moving from a huge parsonage into a much smaller home, so it made sense. I was anticipating this coming move. It was at the back of my mind that my next move I would not have my daughter to help me. Instead, I have drafted some of my friends and we will have a packing party to help fill the void left by her going away to college.

Frankly, I have too many books and cannot bear to get rid of most of them. I tried to give them away to a young seminary student. I was able to part with some of them, but not enough. Because you know, I MIGHT NEED them. Probably not, but I might. Our professors would tell us stories about being appointed out beyond libraries, in the wild and lonely reaches of the Conference.

That lesson stuck with most of us, even though we have the internet, Kindles and really might never look into those books again. But we might, you never know. The other reason that it is hard to get rid of books is because of the blood, sweat and tears that we shed over them. For one or two semesters, those books represented all we thought we needed to know.

I have over 3,000 books on my Kindle. I can take it everywhere with me and it weighs the same today as it did yesterday. But it will never replace my library, even if I actually read from it more as I get older. It makes it easier because I can increase the font size, when my eyes are tired. Once again though, I will tote my library with my as I venture out into this grand new adventure.