When the grandkids go dumpster diving in the apartment garbage bins because of the great stuff left behind by folks leaving quickly and minimally, it’s an indication of the end of another season of life.
When you see abandoned toys, bikes and a plethora of boxes strewn to kingdom come, it’s a sign that things are not what they were.
The times, they are a changin’.
Having spent two months in gloriously gorgeous Colorado for training and spiritual input, it’s time to head back to hot, humid, mosquito-ridden Orlando. Back to being more intentional about cleaning my house. No longer tolerating ring-around-the-potty.
Oh, the joy.
Ten-year-old Ethan would call that sarcasm.
He’s giving me too much credit. I’d call it a bad attitude.
The reality of returning home after a time of learning and being with friends, of doing something intentional for my personal growth, of helping others better understand their strengths and gifts, of not dripping with sweat the moment I step out the front door doesn’t feel fun at all. It feels the opposite of fun.
Life is change. Every day we’re moving and growing. If we’re not making forward progress, we’re taking steps backward. But being stagnant–apart from being unconscious–is not possible. Because we have no control over what enters our lives, or when, we’re constantly in a place of needing to choose how we respond to life. And change.
Change–or transition, the professional way of speaking of the chaos where we have no control–is actually fun for me. I typically enjoy change. I’ve been known to make it happen if things become too stable.
If it’s on my terms.
However, change rarely occurs on my terms.
Definitely not my happy place.
So I’ve not been handling this transition very well. My lack of enthusiasm for this change is making me less kind, more gritchy, less friendly, more edgy.
People can tell I’m not pleased.
I’m not so proud of that. I feel like those empty cupboards–everything’s gone. I’m empty inside. No capacity. No margins.
Just my stuff strewn all over the place. Unpacked and messy.
I can’t rely on my ability to handle change well. I don’t always do that. I can’t trust myself to deal with transition in a way that propels me forward and doesn’t cause me to slip backwards, into a sense of despair or despondency. Too often my emotions are the first things affected by change.
I need to lean into the One person who never changes. The One who is the epitome of stability. Who knows everything about me before I do it, and still loves me.
“Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today and forever.” Hebrews 13:8
Jesus won’t change His mind about me. He won’t change from being the One who loved me enough to die in my place.
So I’ll board that transition train one more time. But not alone.
And I’ll enjoy the ride. This time.