I made a dwelling of boxes.  We have several of them in our living room.  We are packing things away.  Marking this box and that one with stickers to know which goes where.  We are sending the majority of our things to Springfield, IL.   They will rest in my grandparents basement for a year or so.  The remnant will come with us to St. Louis.

I do not like moving.  Even though we are heading back to a familiar place.  We are still leaving friends behind, again.  I had a great time with some guys and gals I know pretty well.  We were at DeCamp Junction until 11 p.m.  WE had some pizza, played some volleyball, watched some softball, and had some beers.  The time was most enjoyable.

I always struggle with the boundaries of friendship.  I do not believe I am to be an island.  I do not think I could handle that as a pastor.  Being around men and women my own age is important to me.  Letting them seem my relationship with Cassie is healthy.  They need to see examples of Christian Marriage.  Trust and shared company, confession and forgiveness, and the truth that a martial relationship is the death of individuals and the raising up of one flesh, sort of like a strange baptism.  A resurrection into a more human state perhaps.  Anyway…There must be lines though.  Where are they?  What are their markers?

There are obvious boundaries.  I say obvious, I should say obvious to me because I have heard of them being overstepped.  I stayed away from the after DeCamp party that was taking palce at  house.  That seems like an obvious place to stay away from at 11 p.m.  IN my opinion there is little good that could come from being there.  I must know my limits.  I must know the boundaries of my relationship.  By my being there the place is not more holy.  The devil attacks here and there.  Have another drink; tell another joke; spread a little more gossip; have a glance over there; when these whispers hit my ears I know it is time to go to sleep.  What that looks like cannot be my concern.

I do not want to move.  I would like to keep having these struggles with the people here.  They are certainly pertinent at the Seminary too.  There are many men and women who struggle with these boundaries as well I am sure.  Time spent talking will be fruitful. Bouncing ideas off one another in light of a year of experience cannot be a bad thing in anyway.  Until then it is boxes.

I played with the dogs.  I hid behind the walls of my dwelling popping out.  They did not know what to make of it.  Boxes are not all bad I guess.  Saying boxes are evil is a little strong.  They are a thorn.

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