If my adventuresome spirit comes from anywhere, it comes from my great-grandfather, Fred Montrose. What a perfect month to share his “moving” story.

Born in Ireland, Fred Murphy must have kissed the blarney stone. As a young man he moved to England to seek his fortune and adopted the aristocratic name of Montrose to find a job (as the English had no use for the Irish in those days).  In England, he used his gift of gab to talk his way onto a sailing ship, assuring the captain of his vast experience on the high seas. He ended up in Ohio, marrying my great-grandmother and my grandmother, Grace Montrose was born.

Not one to stay in one place, he took journalism jobs in Ohio, Boston, Massachusetts and Colorado. When my grandmother’s mother died, this king of blarney took my grandmother to see the Montrose Castle where she could experience her “English” roots. She died, never knowing her maiden name was really Murphy.

In his later years, Montrose sent his uncopyrighted sheet music to Hollywood. He never heard back from the film industry but to his surprise, he would hear his music being played from the silver screen as he sat in a darkened theater. Oh those missed royalty checks!

A widower for many years, he finally moved to California’s Central Valley where he shaved 10 years off of his age and married his second wife. He lived out the rest of his life with his second family in the beautiful orange groves of Porterville, California.

Fred typifies so many immigrants who came to this country. Armed with optimism, he, like many, looked for a better life for their family. They moved with a greater purpose and at great cost, leaving those they loved back in the old country.

One thing I love about the South, the neighborly ways. Used to be the whole country was interested in those residing near their homes but with internet, television, iPods, busy carpooling schedules and duel incomes, neighboring has become a lost art in many parts of the country. Fortunately the slower pace in North Carolina allows neighboring to continue. I’ve created a memorial to my best and worst neighbors. Let’s announce the Hall of Shame folks first.

• The neighbor who sent my young son home for saying, “Crap”.
• The kids next door who decided to target practice from their bedroom window, the side of our house with a large slingshot and heavy objects. Aluminum siding never recovers from these wounds.
• Their parents who denied their darlings could dent anything.
• The neighbor who sent us an anonymous poisonous note saying our dog was “bothering” her little puppy and she’d send the authorities to our house if we didn’t tie up our wild beast. Written about the meekest dog in the world!
• The next door neighbor who removed, hosed, and reorganized his garage every weekend. Actually this man turned out to be a pretty good guy; he just made us look bad.

Now, onto the Hall of Fame. I’ve always had more of these generous, kind and fun-loving souls. Winning a place in my Hall of Fame maybe not an award all aspire to, but I need to give recognition to those who have shown great hospitality and friendliness.

Years ago I moved into a new town far away from my family. My husband traveled a lot and one weekend I found myself in bed with the flu and no husband. With three children, ages three to six flying through the house, my spirits sunk lower as the toy piles rose. On my emergency runs to the bathroom, I’d survey the rug covered with legos, car race tracks, potato chip crumbs and dried up play dough. I whimpered a threat to the oldest boys who seemed to be tormenting their younger sister by calling her a “Whopper Sandwich” Even in my fevered state I thought they could come up with a more ferocious nickname, but the insult worked. She was in tears.

Over the roar of fighting I heard a muted buzz. I thought it was the doorbell. Truth be told, we hadn’t had many visitors so I wasn’t sure what it sounded like. The door opened and a vision of loveliness, a dark haired young woman stepped inside. Hands full with candy for the kids and chicken soup and magazines for mom, I thought, Was this the Welcome Wagon Fairy? How did this woman know I was sick? I vaguely recall meeting her once but to this day I don’t know how she knew I needed chicken soup and companionship.

I met Marian in another neighborhood. I had shown up at her doorstop to find out about a Brownie meeting and she immediately ushered me into her house. Her merry eyes grinned at me as she said, “I thought I saw you the other day driving your daughter to school. Weren’t you the woman with the pink and yellow hair curlers? Haven’t seen that since the sixties when I was young. I figured I’d like anyone who has the nerve to wear curlers in the car.” I cringed. Then I thought about it . . .I like this gal! She had a sense of humor and four children to match my own. She put me at ease right away.

Lonie had a strange accent I couldn’t place when she brought cookies over to us when we moved in. I found out she grew up in South Africa where everyone knows all their neighbors. I loved her down to earth personality and her little 18 month old son who studied my every move with his thoughtful eyes. She took it on herself to include me in many of her daily excursions: did I want to go to the park, had I been to the new Italian restaurant, would I like to go to a program at church? Many times she showed up on my doorstop with a flower from her garden or some South African Red Bush tea. One of her friends told me, “Lonie’s hobby is collecting friends.” Now that’s a worthwhile avocation!

My neighbor Patty loved to cook and would call me over to sample some new recipe. Soup simmered on the stove as she surveyed her cache of frosted cookies Her frosting art put Martha S. to shame. I swore an oath to secrecy as she wrote out her prize winning sugar cookie recipe and gave me a crash course on rolling out dough. She, the Barefooted Contessa of our neighborhood always had the coffee pot brewing. And best of all, she always had leftovers she sent my way!

My neighbors all shared one thing in common: time. They decided to take a slower course in life that could occasionally fit in a drop-in neighbor. None had perfectly groomed houses or completely obedient children. But they had the gift of neighborliness. It’s an art we need to continue to cultivate as our American culture spins out of control. It’s what makes for memories. And you might even end up in my Neighbor Hall of Fame.

(first printed in Forsyth Woman’s magazine)

Many parents have had to make tough decisions about their family and their future in the past 18 months. Since the economic recession started, some families have had to make tough decisions about their homes. Some families have fallen into foreclosure and pinching pennies to get try and stay in their homes.  Other families have had to downsize their lifestyle and others have had to take jobs – sometimes in other towns or states, jobs that mom or dad may be may be overqualified for, but take any way to provide for their families.

These problems have been faced by millions of Americans and often times, parents feel guilty for having to uproot their children from their school, friends, and other activities in order to make ends meet. But if a parent has taught their son or daughter well, a move can be a great experience bringing families together.

Due to my father’s job and my parents’ wishes to have their kids in the best possible schools, I moved several times growing up. I attended two elementary schools, two middle schools, two high schools and two colleges (which was my choice).

Sure it was tough being “the new kid” every couple of years, but kids have short memories and after a couple of weeks, I was no longer “the new kid” but “a kid” at school. Moving was also refreshing. It helped me develop social skills, approach people with ease and be more confident in who I was. Sure, moving affords you the ability to re-invent yourself at a new school to new people but it also forces you to make some decisions about yourself. Constantly changing your image or persona can be fun, for awhile, but eventually being you usually wins out. And who wants a group of friends that likes you for your image, rather than for you who really are?

The personality-building periods of moving during my childhood more than prepared me for adulthood. Transferring in the middle of the fall semester of my junior year of high school from a conservative Christian high school to a larger public high school in the outskirts of Michigan’s second-largest city was a great prep when I transferred from a small, Christian college in rural Indiana to a large public school in the Mountains of Western North Carolina before my second year of college..

I found that the key to making the best in a move is to have a good attitude and find a group, activity or institution you can connect with. In high school, it was Young Life and athletics. In college, it was becoming a founding father and chartering a new fraternity on campus. Seek something out that you will care about put your heart and mind into it. Chances are, people will notice and gravitate to you if you’re genuine and show a true passion for something.

I talk to people who’ve grown up living in the same house, with the same neighbors and friends and family members their whole life. While that’s the traditional way some prefer, I appreciated the different cities, states, cultures and people that have crossed paths with me throughout my life to shape me to be a more well-rounded  and approachable person .

So if you or your family has had to make one of those tough decisions recently – pulling your kids out of private school because you can’t afford the tuition this year, a move down to a more modest house in a more modest neighborhood or maybe a cross-country move to a whole new community, don’t feel guilty, even if your kids come kicking, screaming or crying. They may not thank you now, but down the road, that speed bump will help them prepare for many of life’s larger peaks and valleys.

If that pep talk doesn’t work, just tell them what my dad told me:

“It builds character, son.”

Seth Stratton lives in Greensboro, N.C. and is a reporter and editor for The Dispatch newspaper in Lexington, N.C. He can be reached at scstratton@yahoo.com.

It was the week after Christmas.  We had celebrated the holidays, said, “Good Bye” to the staff and congregation at the church where I had served as educator on the staff, sent in all of the change of address forms. We were downsizing to a small married student housing apartment so we did not need to pack furniture yet a lot was required.   I was deep cleaning our house so our renter, my mother, could move in. And I was really feeling grouchy!  It was all I could do not to snap at my family members.

This was not acceptable to me.  I did not want our children to experience this as an unhappy event. After all we had a lot to look forward to. We were going to live on the very supportive Scarritt College campus with students from around the world and outstanding faculty. We loved the thought of living in Nashville where there were cultural events for all ages.
We made to Nashville; some things went very well and I would have done some things differently.
What went well?

1. We prepared the children for the move sharing why we were moving and the benefits of my returning to graduate school.
2. We were very organized, unpacking quickly and making the place as much like home as possible. Boxes and paper were taken away immediately. Beds were made the first night.
3. We ventured out to a new place of worship on our first Sunday, after snow had fallen. My husband had returned to Florida. I had never driven in snow but we made it! That was an important tradition.
4. We immediately became friends with other families with children, including a family in our apartment building.
5. We were able to enroll our daughter in an excellent church related preschool within the first 3 weeks.
6. We enrolled our son in Cub Scouts right away so he could continue in this program.

What would I have done differently?

1. I would have asked for more help in preparing for the move. We “did it all,” except for having had family who “watched the children”. Even with a small move there is a huge amount of work. However, I would have been less worn out if I had had help with house work and packing. I did most of the packing since my time was more flexible.
2. I would have given my resignation earlier so I would have had more rest. One working parent was enough at this time.
3. I would have made different arrangements for our daughter’s day care during the first 3 weeks after we moved. I was unhappy about some of the aspects of her day care center; she was nearby and only attended part time. However, I know my uneasiness did not help her transition there although she loved her church preschool.
4. I would consider not moving during midyear; small group relationships have been made, at school, at church, in scouting groups. This meant our children needed to enter into established groups and make a place for themselves. However I recognize that we live in a transitional society. Perhaps this was a better age for them to move than if it had been in high school.  Later on we made the move to seminary when our son was going into his senior year in high school. He decided to stay in our city, living with friends, and grew in many ways during this year apart.

Prior to writing this I asked other people who had moved often with children what they had done to help make the move go well.  They shared the following.

1. During the packing process, do only what is necessary. For instance, eat out when possible.
2. Provide opportunities for everyone to say “Goodbye’ to friends and get the friend’s addresses, including email addresses.
3. Assure your children that they will make friends at their new home, for this loss seems to concern us even more during the holidays.
4. Observe your nightly rituals and holiday traditions, whether or not you are staying in temporary quarters such as a hotel or an apartment and, yes, let them know that Santa Claus is aware of their location on Christmas Eve, wherever you may be.

Ann R. Hutchens, MDIV, CRTS, President

Certified Relocation and Transition Specialist (CRTS)
Serving Greater Central Florida, including Orange, Seminole, Lake, Osceola, Polk, Brevard and Volusia Counties
OFFICE NUMBERS: 407-699-5600; 888-973-3335(Toll Free);
FAX: 866- 943-9955
www.creatingdivineorder.com
Member: National  Association of Professional Organizers (NAPO)
National Association of Senior Move Managers (NASMM)

The Call to Courage

By PeggySue Wells

Change. It’s inevitable. We can embrace it or resist it. Moving is all about change. A change in address, a change in friends, a change in community.

At the foundation of much of our hesitation, we are fearful to leave the comfort of familiar surroundings. Change requires effort as I adjust to different routines, unusual experiences, and fresh relationships. It means venturing into new doctor and dental offices. Finding schools, grocery stores, a library, theater, and mechanic. A move requires new bank accounts, car registration, and taxes. Then there is the painting, remodeling, and landscaping. Just thinking about it makes me break out in a sweat. Some intrepid souls thrive on adventure, but most are content to be homebodies.

The call to follow our Lord is a call to courage. It is often a call to change. It was for nearly everyone in the Bible. The change impacted reputations, identities, careers, and lives. The disciples stopped fishing and traveled. David stopped shepherding and experienced the splendor of palaces and the starkness of the desert places. Moses stopped herding sheep and moved an entire people group. Abraham changed his address and the course of world history.

Go and tell. Noah took up shipbuilding and witnessed the complete change of the entire world. His was the ultimate change in address. Paul changed his name, his trade, and traveled the then known world. Each one knew the Lord (come and see), had a relationship with God (follow me), and received instruction regarding where they were to go and what they were to do (go and tell).

Arise and Go

Joseph, Mary’s husband in the New Testament was a picture of relocation for the protection of his family. “Because Joseph her husband was a righteous man and did not want to expose her to public disgrace, he had in mind to divorce her quietly. But after he had considered this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, ‘Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because she will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins. When Joseph woke up, he did what the angel of the Lord had commanded him and took Mary home as his wife,” (Matt. 1:19-20, 24).

Joseph continued to respond immediately to God’s command. “An angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream. “Get up,” he said, “take the child and his mother and escape to Egypt. Stay there until I tell you, for Herod is going to search for the child to kill him. So he got up, took the child and his mother during the night and left for Egypt,” (Matt. 2:13-14).

Joseph’s instant obedience left no room for fear to hinder or halt him in the course. His immediate action had a huge and positive impact on those within his circle of influence that includes you and me thousands of years later. Joseph was willing to change his address in an instant.

Fear is the antithesis of trust in the Lord. “For we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do,” (Eph. 2:10). These works are the commandments he gives us in Scripture.

Releasing Control

Letting go of fear is letting go of control. Only to find we never really were in complete control anyway. Those who are strong controllers operate from a foundation of fear. Frequently, controllers have experienced deep hurt or betrayal or both. They respond by striving to control situations, environments, and people in a desperate attempt to protect themselves from being hurt or betrayed again. Ironically, all our efforts at control do nothing to protect us from emotional upheaval. Control merely makes us exhausted and unpleasant to live with.

I have learned two truths about being in control and about the love of God.

1) I don’t have to be perfect.

2) I don’t have to be strong all the time.

Often I resist God’s call in my life because I’m afraid to follow where he will lead. It may be out of my comfort zone. Like Abraham, Daniel, and Joseph, it may mean relocation.

This material is from PeggySue Wells’s book, What To Do When You’re Scared To Death (Lion Hudson Publishers, 2009). The author of more than a dozen books, PeggySue’s articles appear nationally in magazines. Advisory Board member for Remedy.fm, she writes curriculum and screenplays, and conducts young author workshops in schools, and presents interactive workshops for colleges and national conferences including Celebrate Creativity!, Beauty for Ashes, the Evangelical Press Association, and Write to Publish. To learn more or to contact PeggySue, visit her website at www.PeggySueWells.com.

If you’re looking for a way to help people, look no further than this blog. Americans move an average of once every eight years so it’s easy to find a newcomer within your community. September is an especially opportune month for helping those newbies in your community as the new school year begins.

Here are some tips to find newcomers who would love a friendly smile

1)      Ring the doorbell on the door where a moving van is parked. A quick “Hi, welcome to the community,” is enough for those directing furniture in their house. If you are really brave and live nearby, leave your email address or a phone number for any questions about the community. …Go ahead, be brave and bold!

2)      Talk to the teachers in your child’s class. See if anyone has moved recently. Then, teach your child how to show hospitality by talking to that new kid and including them in any group plans. (Do I hear an over-stressed, newly relocated mother in the background weeping and crying, “Yes,”?).

3)      Direct newcomers to www.ChangingZipCodes.com especially to the article,

     A Remodeled Life. It’s the times of upheavls that make us think about our values in life.  Yes, this is an unabashed plug but it’s all for a good cause, helping newcomers adjust to a community.

I need lots of volunteers to join this army of encouragers. Please sign up and help. No dues required, no junk mail, sent and I don’t sell your phone number.  I have you on my email list because you have been supportive of this website in the past. Thanks for being there!

Special Note: I will have some personal stories from women who have recently moved and want to share their stories. Watch for PeggySue, and Laura in future blogs. These talented, professional writers have their own insights into the moving game.

One problem with moving: you often have to change friends. I have been fortunate to have kept a few close ones as I follow the moving van to another city or state. Good buddies are hard to find so hang on to them. If they are true friends, they’ll be there. Otherwise, they weren’t that committed to the friendship and it’s just as well you find out.

This month I’m writing about my two 911 friends who showed up during those difficult teenage parenting years. I don’t see them much as they live in another state but they are always there for me. Distance makes it a little more difficult to keep things going but it’s worth the effort. For those who have moved, I encourage you to keep those well worn (worn, in a good way) friendships going.

The following is a piece I wrote for the Forsyth Woman magazine blog, 7/09.  The magazine blog is a fun read no matter where you live. (wwww.forsythwoman.com/blog).

Having a 911 Friend

In our overly-stressed, under-nourished culture, a dear friend is highly prized. A good friend may get you through life with a smile and a friendly couch where you can occasionally perch. And a 911 friend… well, she can save your life!

When I had four children at home, three teenagers were teenagers at the same time. I needed a 911 friend.  A 911 friend is someone you can call when you child doesn’t come home by 1:00 AM, gets kicked off of the football team because the coach found marijuana in their school locker and is flunking their favorite subject in school and may not graduate. (Note: If you haven’t parented the teenage years or your children are solid citizens and honor students, read no further).

My friends Marge and Chris showed up in my life just in time. They always called back if I left an urgent message. They never condemned my children or acted shocked. Both understood the nature of the teenage beast and reassured me my children would not end up in jail or flunk out of school. They spoke the voice of reason when my house was filled with teenage hormones and midnight meltdowns. Both, themselves mothers of four children, steadied my ups and downs as I guided my children through the treacherous path to adulthood… And when things did get dark, they cheered me on.  And guess what? Our family survived those years and I now have four wonderful adult children.

Everyone needs a few 911 friends. Do you have one who won’t criticize or judge your parenting? Do you have a girlfriend who reminds you “this too shall pass?”  If you do then you are“blessed” women. If you don’t, then consider becoming one to someone else struggling through life.

January 15th, 2009

Pat moved to a new state and a new town, Wayne, Illinois. Hopeful for new friends, she waited  daily for someone to knock on her door and welcome her to her new home. Days passed without a single person to acknowledge her presence in the neighborhood.  Finally a few years later she met a woman who invited her to a Bible study. Intrigued by something special she saw in this woman, she visited the group. At the study she met someone else, her Heavenly Father and life changed.  She found a new purpose for her life. Pat created a program called “Welcome to Wayne”.
Pat Schiltz explains in her own words:

“Over a 22 year period I have had the privilege and pleasure of welcoming more than 1000 new families to Wayne with useful information about our community.Included are a map of Wayne and a neighborhood map specific to the newcomer’s location, a private Wayne Directory of names + addresses + phone number, some history about our village, and additional information on local organizations.  Also available is a list of babysitters, and “Garden Gatherings” in the summer for Wayne women to get to know one another. My favorite part is networking each woman interested into knowing others in Wayne. The most exciting part for me was inviting women to “check out” our Bible study as a way of meeting other women in the community, even if they decided not to continue for long.However, most women did stay and many have come to know Jesus as their BEST friend!

Since 1987 this petite, energetic mother of two has welcomed one thousand families to Wayne, Illinois. Did you all catch that one—-ONE THOUSAND FAMILIES, 1,000 FAMILIES! How did she do it? One hand shake at a time. What power found by one woman taking a painful experience (loneliness) and turning it into a positive ministry for newcomers.

Most of us may not be able to become a one woman welcoming committee to every newcomer in town. What we can do, though, is to pick out one recent transplant and extend the hand of friendship. It take so little to change a community: a phone call, a ride, a batch of cookies. I encourage all my  readers to choose one newcomer to befriend in this new year of 2009. I don’t know about you, but as a veteran mover, I blinked back tears while reading Pat Schiltz’s story. I remember as a young mother looking high and low for a friendly face. I just wish I had moved to Wayne Illinois. I know I would have found a dear friend.

www.ChangingZipCodes.com salutes Pat Schiltz, a woman who nurtures the newcomer.  I’m sure she’ll have a place next to St. Peter when she welcomes many into heaven.
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Do you know someone doing an exceptional job welcoming and befriending newcomers. I’d love to hear your stories.

Yours for a good year,
a good move,
and a good hearty handshake to those “newcomers” in your life.
Love,
Carol