Moving a Family

While I went to bed at 4:30am this morning, I was forced to get up at 9am to help a family in my parents' church move. Normally, I would complain but the family situation warranted compassion. The woman is in the middle of a divorce with an emotionally abusive husband. I could not, in good conscious, complain about waking up early to help her and her family. Russell and Erik helped with me.

As we helped them move, I realized how much of an expert mover my father made me. For example, we were moving the family out of a second story apartment. The 4 other adults that were helping climbed the stairs, picked up a box, walked down the stairs and put the box into the moving truck. In contrast, Russell never climbed stairs and I never put a box into the truck. We split the work to make it go faster and indeed, we were twice as fast as everyone else.

When we were emptying the truck, I thought the person who was in the truck was going to stay in there and move boxes toward the back so people could easily pick them up. I was disappointed when the man left and everyone was getting into the truck to get a box. I immediately got into the truck to make the process more efficient.

It was annoying that in the midst of 4 adult Mormon males, I was the most knowledgeable on moving. In my whole life, I've probably helped move over 30 families and emptied many moving trucks full of food storage or water bottles. My dad taught me almost everything I know about moving people.

As we were driving home, Russell and I critiqued the move and talked about ways it could have been better. Erik complained that we were "complaining," but I told him that if we talk about it now, the same mistakes will not be made in the future. "Erik," I said, "you'll be moving many more people so you should learn how to do it in the most efficient way. You'll later appreciate what we're talking about."