Suitcase Living.

Where is my toothbrush? Where is my black shirt? And, seriously? I didn't bring the right shoes. In fact, did I bring any shoes at all?


Traveling for my job has complicated my life. Not really, but it has made it exceedingly clear that efficient packing is definitely not within my strongest skill set. Forgetting one seemingly insignificant item can put a damper on a whole trip and it seems that somehow everywhere I go, I find a way to forget something just pertinent enough to inconvenience some aspect of the travel. I like to blame this on airport security and their crazy 3 oz. and ziploc baggy rule, but when I get real honest with myself I can't really blame them for forgetting such things as underwear or adequate form of identification.

Needless to say, the preparation for and the actuality of living out of a suitcase has sort of a glamorous and exciting sound to it, but in the thick of it, is rather taxing on all fronts: emotionally, physically, and organizationally.

Every morning while on the road, I awake and the schedule of the day immediatley looms over me like a heavy, daunting mist of chaos. But with each task accomplished throughout the day, it is a step closer to the end of the trip. A step closer to the goal -- accomplishing all the interactions and activities necessary to return home. Back to normalcy. Back to consistency. Back to familiarity. Knowing I am going home once I accomplish the goal of the trip makes the duties of the day that much more exceedingly easy to get through.

Thus, I have decided that living in such a transistory state -- suitcase living -- is largely metaphorical for the life we live here on earth.


We are told that this earth is not really our home in Scripture and we are basically just travelers and foreigners in this land. Each day and each task accomplished is a step closer to home. A step towards spending the rest of unchartered eternity of time with our Father.

When I'm on the road living out of my suitcase, the mentaility is one that is confident that this trip will come to an end. Never once when I was on the road did I ever find myself wondering if I was ever going home, it was an obvious given. Similarily, living as a traveler on this earth, I should never live my day to day life like I'm not sure whether or not I'm ever going to get to go home or place more precedence on the temporal location rather than the final. Signed, sealed, and delivered ... It's already a done deal where I'm headed. My tasks, my job, my friends, my relationships, and my day-to-day are not my final goal or destination. I'm just a traveler. Living out of a suitcase.

And seriously, I need a packing assistant.