The Generosity of Presence in the Midst of Transience

The Remarkable Ordinary #7: Kerri Christopher on Being Moved by the Body of Christ

Since I turned 18, I’ve lived in six different states and three different countries. I’ve called 22 different dorm rooms, apartments, or houses, “home.” I’m in the middle of moving to my 23rd place, providentially giving me space to reflect on how the Lord’s mercy surely has, as the psalmist sings, followed me all the days of my life.

They say moving is one of the most stressful things a person can do, and certainly it’s something I find difficult to handle with grace and poise. When the boxes come out and the books go in and I can’t find the scissors or tape or that important paper from six months ago that I put somewhere really safe so it wouldn’t get lost, it’s not uncommon for me to find myself in a puddle of tears.

But in reflecting on these decades of transience, I’ve also realized that it’s not uncommon for me to find myself surrounded by willing helpers. The body of Christ has been a constant presence, no matter the country, no matter the state.

There was my college flatmate’s boyfriend’s mother, a woman I never actually met, who happily allowed me to park my car in her garage for three months while I flew home for the summer.

There were the friends who said, “why don’t you just leave your boxes with us?” and then proceeded to move my boxes right along with their own when they moved house. Several times. With nine kids. And a dog.

There was the single guy living at the presbytery down the road, who spent an entire day helping my husband carry several tons of books and furniture up the 48 steps to our 3rd floor flat with nary an elevator in sight. They had never met before.

There was the couple who, exhausted by international travel and family holidays, asked “can we come help?” and drove three hours to pack up my attic, tie my suitcases to the roof of their car, and then tetris everything neatly into the newer, tinier, attic.

There were the flatmates who spoke magically kind words to the weary packer moving overseas: “just leave whatever you don’t want. We’ll take care of getting rid of it for you.”

There was the photographer friend who gave up his precious time with his wife and young children to come take pictures of our furniture to sell (because my photography skills make even our nice things look like they came from a flea market.)

There were texts asking How’s it going? and Can we bring you some food? and What do you need?; the willing ear of an old friend listening to me complain about all 23 moves with nothing but patience and empathy; the financial help from parents and friends: This is for a new dishwasher. I wish I could give more.

Every act of service, a living witness to His pursing mercy.

When I was 25, finishing my master’s and getting ready to move out of state, I found myself in the familiar predicament of too many books, not enough tape, where is that paper?, cue the tears. An older couple in the area had befriended me, and the wife looked at my stack of half-packed boxes and said: “let us do this for you.”

When I asked her why, she summed up the remarkable ordinariness of the Christian approach to life: “People helped us. When our son died, when we moved, a lot of people helped us. Let us help you, too.”

A huge thanks to

Kerri Christopher

for working on this article while she was literally in the middle of yet another move. If you haven’t yet, please check out Kerri’s publication

Cultivating Clarity

!

The Remarkable Ordinary is a weekly publication highlighting Christians performing ordinary acts of kindness, hospitality, and integrity. Its goal is to be an anti-moral failure, anti-church scandal, anti-hypocrisy kind of journalism.

For more info on the “why” behind The Remarkable Ordinary, check out this essay.

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