My husband is a packer. No, you don’t understand. He is a packer. It’s his spiritual gift or something. Whenever we move – which has been a lot in our 4 years of marriage – I don’t pack, it’s neither something I enjoy, nor my spiritual gift or super power. I clean and pile things by room; if I’m really going crazy, I pile by shape and size. Otherwise, Josh does it all.
Amazing, right? My husband is a planner: he thinks about the little things that would never even cross my mind. He’s prepared. Organized. Detailed. And maybe a bit neurotic about packing. He makes things fit into impossible spaces, and nothing ever shifts, breaks, or goes missing. It’s kind of his super power. Funny enough, it’s a skill he’s going to need when loading missionary aircraft on the field. God knew.
When we have moved in the past – he has been my rock and my help. He gives extra time for packing, cleaning, hugs, and the down time that is truly needed before a big trip. We are usually 98% packed 2-3 days before we actually leave; just so that we can have some space to breathe, to get that last minute must-have, to get one more coffee in with a friend, and one more hug of a loved one, without the added stress of still needing to pack.
Last week we bought our tickets to take us to Papua New Guinea. Once they were booked, he began walking around, collecting items. He began taping lids, wrapping bottles in plastic, and rubber banding everything so it stayed compact and sealed. He loaded, weighed, rearranged, reloaded, and re-weighed our trunk.
I make fun of him sometimes, but really it’s one of the things that I love the most about him. He’s never surprised by something when traveling, and he always knows where things are. He gives grace for his scatterbrained-only-thinking-in-the-moment wife. He never says I can’t bring something, even if he doesn’t understand why I want to keep it. And he’s taught me that I don’t have to keep everything, that home isn’t made of trinkets and stuff, it’s made of love, imagination, laughter, and faith. He inspires me to want to make a home for him, to love and encourage him, and to be the wife he needs, not always the wife he wants.