The Friends You Take with You

I moved a lot.
Like three jobs in the last three years a lot.
Like living in four states in the last five years a lot.
Like I have down sized more times than Marie Kondo a lot.
Like even then, I haven't completely unpacked in over a decade a lot.

There are places and people that I love dearly spread across this country. Some of those people are still in the cities where we met, others have gone off on their own adventures having moved since our paths first crossed.

And the reality is, no matter how deep the connection or how many suitcases you own, not everything, not everyone can come with you when you move.

So, instead things come to be reminders of the places you once lived. Physical items become totems of the people who were once near.

Chicago 2011
Bob, Mooby, and Cookie get displayed even before I have any furniture

Over the years, I have accrued a handful of these totems. And they all fit into a single box. A single box that is always made accessible whether the rest of my things are in storage or not. A single box that is always unpacked and its items displayed regardless of where I am.

While it may appear that this box is nothing more than a box of toys, each item carries significance for me.

In the photo on the right, the anthropomorphic tomato, Bob (far left), is progenitor of this tradition of hanging onto items that take on a greater meaning. Bob and I first met in college. Bob survived a mission trip in 1998 to Australia. He beyond being rescued from the more curious among our team, carries with him not just the memories of that trip, but the memories of my four years of college. He holds not only the memories of dorm rooms, study sessions, bad cafeteria food, finals weeks and missions trips, but the memory of everyone I met, everyone who broke my heart, and everyone who loved me in spite of my flaws for those four years in Redding, CA.

Copperopolis 2017
More shelves lead to more of the box unpacked

After college, I spent nine years living in Southern California. It was then I met Mooby. Mooby is the cow (really a golden calf) on Bob's left in the pic above, and on Bob's right in the pic below. Mooby represents a unique group of friends unlike any I have had before. It was becoming a part of this group that allowed me to attend private screenings of small documentaries, wide release studio films, and private indy films that never sought distribution. It is the reason I have the autograph of Johnny Depp's daughter and once had to help a Hollywood director shoo a group of drunk fans out of his bedroom. But it isn't these memories that ensure Mooby a place on the shelf. Rather, it is the friends who saw past my own doubts and insecurities and made me feel welcomed and accepted without having to change anything about myself.

Gainesville 2019
Albert joins Bob, Larry, and Mooby
(apologies to Pastor Beth)

Each of these plush toys and souvenirs that have accumulated over the years represent not only the people and places where they come from, they have come to represent parts of myself. My past and my present. My joys and failures, my pain and my victories. Little slices of my story that add up to where I am today. Parts of my identity reflected in the people and places that shaped them.

Most all of them were gifts, and most came about toward the end or ever after the experiences whose memories they hold. Today, I added a new "friend" to the shelf.

This new friend, Albert (the green one wearing the tee) is different. Albert is on the shelf not just as a totem for what has been, but as a totem for what can be. He represents not only this last year in Gainesville, but my future here. Albert represents the piece of myself that has found a home here in Gainesville.

Albert holds the hope and the faith this place will have many more memories to come.





--Serving God alongside all of you, just from further away
 --Jesse Letourneau