When I was younger, I had our address memorized. It was rhythmic, almost. When an older person asked where I lived, or I had to help them fill out a form for me (camps, doctors, etc.), I could blurt it out almost second nature. It was a piece of cake. (not that we lived on a piece of cake, but it was easy to tell people my address.)
At one point, however....someone decided that should change. You may not be aware of this, but on most streets in the US, odd numbers are on one side, evens are on the other. "Duh", you may be thinking. Well, until this event occurred in my life, I had no clue. It helps a lot as a salesman going from business to business, trying to find a place, however....so I've used it a lot.
In any case, at one point someone determined our house was on the wrong side of the street to warrant an odd number. We were told we must change our address to an even numbered address. I remember thinking it was an odd thing to ask of us, but I was able to process it. I can't imagine the confusion it caused some of my younger siblings, or even more so their friends and teachers, etc. To have a new address, without having moved anywhere at all.
Nothing changed in all reality. Nothing was moved. Nothing looked different. The inside of the house remained the same, it even stayed in the same location. The only noticeable change were the numbers painted on the rock, labeled on the house itself, and on our mailbox.
It was a silly thing indeed. But I'm sure it helped us to be found in the mass of houses for whoever really needed us to be found.
And all of this, unfortunately, can serve as a pretty good metaphor sometimes.
A Song For the Lent Season
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