Transition
In June, at the encouragement of a friend, I submitted an article to a publication that was accepting guest submissions. I’d done this once before, with the same publication, and was rejected. But, I decided, “why not?” and tried again.
I was also rejected again. But the good news about having your own website… you are the publisher, and you get to decide what gets shared. I actually liked the piece I wrote, so I decided it deserved a permanent space here. Enjoy my friends. May it be an encouragement.
Young and ambitious, we packed our few belongings into a white Penske truck on a cold January day in Ohio. It was my birthday, I turned 23 years old and with my new husband of only eight days, we left our world and trekked cross country into the unknowns (to us) of the Pacific Northwest. We were excited. We were expectant. We were hopeful.
We were also unaware - unaware that we would move across the country three more times in the next eight years. We’d have new homes, new jobs, new community and new babies. And we’d lose friends, we’d lose our sense of self, we’d struggle. We were starting one transition that would lead to more transitions and the tension transition brings.
Transition offers hope and opportunity as we look toward what could be, while also grieving what was, understanding that often, to begin something new, we must say goodbye to what was as we enter the unfamiliar.
Transition has taught me about dependence. Having lived in the same city from birth through high school accustomed to a certain level of familiarity, my adult life has been a whirlwind of change and the growing pains that come with it.
When I moved to Portland, Ore, my husband and I knew we needed community, so we knelt down on our knees and prayed for it often. We struggled our first year of marriage, but prayer was one thing we could do together. We asked God to provide us a church community to surround us - because we knew we likely wouldn’t survive without it.
God answered that prayer. Over time, the richness of relationship and community we formed in Portland was unlike anything I could have ever imagined. The Body was alive and thriving, and it nurtured us as it enveloped us in a warm embrace like a mother holds her crying toddler. We flourished in this love.
When we moved from Portland to Cincinnati, Ohio, we once again found ourselves in desperate need as I battled intense sadness and the grief of leaving a community that had been the answer to our prayer. I had attached to them, belonged to them, and now, I was moving away from them. This would be hard for anyone, but as a woman who experienced her own trauma and struggles with attachment, this was especially difficult.
Again I was on my knees. Again I begged for community. Again, God responded. This time, by pulling me deeper into Him. He nurtured me. He held me like a mother holds her crying toddler. He taught me that He is indeed my Comforter.
I didn’t receive community the way I wanted or expected, but I received community the way I most desperately needed. In this place of deep sadness, I grew to know the loving and compassionate gaze of the Father. I saw how even my previous attachments to community, my joy at belonging and being known, even that was a small shadow of the depth of belonging and being known that God was offering.
We have moved a few more times since then and even now, we are in the midst of transition to Atlanta, GA. We are finding our way not only in a new city, but a new culture. And, while there is much I do not know about what will come, I do have several lessons in dependence that I am drawing on as we adjust to life here.
Being in transition has a way of teaching humility and reliance. It forces you, me, us to pay attention as we wrestle with the discomfort and vulnerability of learning a new place, of seeking belonging and of not knowing if it will come. I am a woman who has stretched out my hand in need many times. I have had to ask for companionship. I have had to show up even when I didn’t know if I’d be accepted. I’ve had to be honest about my desire to belong and my fear that I may not. This has made me dependent on the love of God. It has forced me to trust in the One who says I do indeed belong.
And so do you. You belong dear one, even when all the circumstances around you seem to scream otherwise.
Transition has given me the gift of knowing the presence of God, and that same gift is available to you, too.
In the book of Jeremiah, God says,
“You will seek Me and you will find me, when you search for me with your whole heart.” (Jeremiah 29:13, CSB)
Transition has taught me just how true these words are, as it has led me to seek God with my whole heart. It has beckoned me to draw nearer to the voice of Love, calling me closer and meeting me in my need.
If you are going through transition, whatever it may be, please know that the same God who beckoned me, also beckons you.
The journey through transition can feel so unstable, but may you know the One who grounds you and is with you. Always.
