Sometimes things work out
Sometimes things work out

Sometimes things work out

There are things in life we have to do and often dread having to do them.

Like moving.

I currently can’t think of many more frustrating tasks than moving. It’s just such a pain. You realize how much crap you have that you probably don’t even need, and there’s so much cleaning and manual labor involved, especially when you don’t hire other people to do all of the work for you.

Over the weekend, I moved back out to the city I missed too much during the past year, and the moving process isn’t any less annoying than it’s always been. I had been trying not to stress about it, but the closer it got, the more anxiety I felt. I was pretty worried we weren’t going to have enough people to help or that there wouldn’t be a good place for me to park the U-Haul or that I wouldn’t have my stuff packed in time—and a countless amount of other worries that I really shouldn’t have been stressing out about so much (especially since my move-in date was a week before my move-out date, so I still have some time).

Besides, life is going to work out as it should.

My mom picked me up Saturday to drive me to pick up the U-Haul, and driving that bad boy is a feat in itself. The whole no-rear-view-mirror idea is special. I had to park pretty far from my apartment and still felt slightly concerned about getting it in a convenient spot by the time my moving helpers showed up.

My dad had disassembled my bed frame while we were gone, and I realized I had enough time to make a trip out to my new place to get the keys and unload some clothes. It was an unexpected piece of goodness.

Sitting in an empty apartment and thinking about how happy we are that we’re finished moving furniture.

My friend Maddie called me to let me know she had recruited her friend Chris to help us, which was great news because my brother was only able to help us load the truck and wouldn’t be loaning us his manpower at the new place, too. I had minor concerns about Maddie and me trying to move my sofa by ourselves—it’s kind of a beast. (I mean, we are, too, obviously, but still.) But we had Chris now, so everything worked out alright.

When I got back right before my crew arrived, I noticed two open parking spaces right in front of my building—I had no time to waste. I darted inside, grabbed the key to the U-Haul and took off sprinting toward the truck. I started it up and didn’t even give myself time to use a seat belt (sorry, laws) because I needed to lock down those spots. The truck fit perfectly, meaning yet one more thing worked out in my favor that day.

Then, the spot right in front of the truck (it’s parallel parking) became available, so I was able to move my car there. How was I getting so lucky?

We got everything loaded pretty quickly and headed for my new place. I parked illegally, and we began unloading. As I mentioned, my sofa is rather large, so some individuals voiced concern that it wouldn’t fit through the doors or on the elevator (God bless elevators when you’re moving), but I was confident (read: extremely hopeful) that it would fit—mainly because fitting was the only option. It’s the best napping sofa in the world, and I need it for survival. Ladies, you know when you’re trying to squeeze on a pair of jeans that have recently been washed and dried, and you barely get them on and zipped? That was this couch in the elevator. There was zero room left. It was a Nov. 26 day miracle.

Then there was the screwdriver I forgot. My dad was assembling my bed frame and asked me where the Phillips-head screwdriver was.

Sitting on the floor of my old apartment, of course.

He started going off about not being able to do anything without it, so I said I’d find one. Enter Lauren and Breece, two people who thought they were getting on the elevator to go downstairs and walk their dog. Instead, I asked them for a screwdriver, and they came to the rescue without even hesitating or caring that I hadn’t even properly introduced myself in all of the chaos. Lauren and Breece are clutch.

Moving is stressful. Life is stressful. But every once in a while, things actually work out even when you’re doubtful. No, they certainly don’t always turn out the way you want them to—hopes get dashed, hearts get broken, dreams get crushed, and tears get cried. But I have to believe those hurtful times aren’t wasted. There are reasons we must endure them, whatever those reasons may be. I don’t pretend to understand the way God works, but I do believe He’s good.

So pain can’t be without purpose.

Sometimes those moving moments when things work out when they could have gone terribly actually happen. Life isn’t always a Taylor Swift song of heartache—sometimes it’s “Shake It Off” or “Our Song.”

And it’s important to recognize those sweet moments because they remind you that you’re going to be alright.


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