Change is coming.
Whether I embrace it or resist it, change is coming.
Not just the seasonal change that is already evident in my daily walks...
there is the hint of crispness in the early morning air as I head out the door, and the early achiever trees have already dropped brown leaves that skitter and crunch beneath my steps ...
the small clumps of subdued children gathering at the corner bus stops, stooping under backpacks weighed with the evidence that carefree summer days are over.
Not just the physical changes that appear in my mirror each morning....
new gray strands in my hair...
new wrinkles around my eyes and mouth (smile lines, I hope!)...
hands that I don't recognize as mine when I unexpectedly focus on them (how did I suddenly get my grandmothers hands, anyway?)
No, this change is more challenging, more profound, and demands more of my heart and soul to adapt to it.
The rhythm of my newly constructed life without Bob is being upended, and like the child's game of Fruit Basket Turnover, everything is in motion and disarray until it settles into a new arrangement.
Change is coming and I must choose how to respond.
I must choose what to hold onto and what to let go of in this season of change.
I won't pretend that it isn't hard.
Unlike the geese, I am moving north. I am moving to Minnesota.
In this move, I am letting go of the house I have loved more than any other that I have lived in through the years. This last home that I shared with Bob, its cheerful yellow walls and light filled rooms are also filled with memories of him sitting on the deck listening to the birds while enjoying his morning coffee, gazing through the skylights enjoying the splashing and pattering of falling rain, sitting with the grandsons in the front yard swing, and resting in his recliner as the sun streamed through the windows as he grew weaker.
I am letting go of sweet times with friends that have loved me, listened to my grief and also laughed with me, lunched with me and lifted my spirits, making this past year a year of joy and not just a year of sorrow.
I am moving to a new state, a new climate, a smaller home.
And, as part of this move, I am making choices as I pack, what do I hold onto, what do I let go?
Of course, some decisions are easy. The clothes that no longer fit, the marred table that was bought to "make do" until getting something better, the serving tray that has taken up space for years and only pressed into service a time or two, these are easily released.
But then there are the things with emotional weight, possessions that have moved with me across the years, across many states and life stages, things that have memories associated with them of people or events in the past. Do I keep or release the large rattan bookcases that Bob brought back in the hold of the ship from his first deployment? What about my basket collection from the years as a consultant for the company, books that I've collected and read that reflect various seasons of my life, decorative items from a trip, an experience, a gift?
And, harder yet. Things that were Bob's, that were of value to him but no longer serve a purpose. The box of heavy wooden and metal plaques that were given to him at the end of each duty station in the Navy, his uniform medals, his collection of caps, pictures presented to him from appreciative shipmates of ships and chapels where he served. Physical representations of his life and ministry which are hard to part with but which I don't have space for anymore.
As I consider each item, I ask, "Do I need this? Is it truly useful to me?", and if not, I ask Marie Kondo's question, "Does this spark joy?" Another quote from her that has been helpful is, "When you come across something that you can't part with, think carefully about it's purpose in your life...many of the things you possess have already fulfilled their roles. To truly cherish the things that are important to you, you must first discard those that have outlived their purpose."
But the process of holding on and letting go of physical possessions and places also applies to my thoughts and attitudes. And this is the deeper process.
I can choose to focus on what I have lost and am losing, on the pain of saying goodbye and letting go, or I can choose to fix my focus on what I am holding onto.
David Jeremiah said in a sermon, "Sometimes we concentrate so much in what we've lost that we forget what we still have." An author, Kate Morton, writes, "You make a life out of what you have, not what you're missing." And the greatest Author of all reminds me, "Do not call to mind the former things or ponder things of the past. Behold I will do something new, now it will spring forth, will you not be aware of it? I will even make a roadway in the wilderness, rivers in the desert." (Isaiah 43:18-19)
It is not that I am to ever forget to cherish the people and events and places of my past that have been so precious to me. But I cannot live in the past. I cannot spend my time pondering what is gone to the detriment of what is present and what God still has for me. When I am tempted to lament what I have lost and am losing, I remember two small but powerful words in Scripture that make all the difference in how I view this change in my life.
"But God"...
Throughout His Word, this little phrase reveals that there is a deeper plan and purpose that what we are experiencing on the surface.
Joseph, sold into slavery by his own brothers, many years later confidently says to them, "you meant it for evil, but God meant it for good."
The Psalmist in his despair cried out, "My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever."
Peter proclaims to the men at the temple, "You killed the author of life, but God raised him from the dead."
After writing a description of the degenerate, sinful former state of the Ephesian believers, Paul gives them the amazing truth, "But God, who is rich in mercy, because of his great love for us, made us alive in Christ even when we were dead in transgressions---it is by grace you have been saved."
Like a nugget of gold gleaming in a cold, muddy stream of worthless gray rocks, this little phrase, but God, is a glittering treasure to transform my attitude from loss to anticipation.
I remember "but God " has a good plan and purpose for me in this move, that he is already providing all that I need to not just survive but to thrive, that he is not just good all the time in the abstract but that he is good to me personally all the time, that he is writing my story as a part of a larger story and this move is just a new plot twist to bring him glory.
It matters where I put the "but" in my life.
t matters whether I look at the events and circumstances and problems of my life and say, "I know God loves me and has a good plan for me, but this............".
Or I say, " I know this is hard, scary, sad, unfair, etc., but God is good and loves me and is my strength and provider, my rock and my refuge, my friend and my shepherd...and the list continues and reminds me that He is holding onto me, even when I forget to hold onto Him!; &nbs
And so, I sort and sift and each morning I get up and open my Bible to hear from the One who knows me best and loves me most. With open hands lifted before me, I ask him to take that which I need to let go and to embrace what he desires for me to hold onto. To give wisdom in discarding and keeping possessions, but mostly that I let go of wrong attitudes and unhelpful thoughts and to enable me to hold on to thanksgiving and joy in this season of change.
To remain thankful for the life I have had with my husband, my family, my friends and to anticipate new joy to come.
To believe that this new season is a gift He is giving me, to be unwrapped each morning in my new home.
To rejoice that I will have all of my family in one place and be able to enjoy all my grandchildren all the time, not just in scattered visits.
To choose to view this new state and climate as an adventure as well as a challenge...perhaps I'll learn to say "uff-da"" and "you betcha", instead of "ya'll" and "bless her heart", to take "hotdishes" to church socials instead of "casseroles", and maybe I'll even embrace the snow and learn to ice skate or snowboard! My motto is going to be, "Adventure Awaits!"
Each morning, before I begin choosing what to hold onto and what to let go, I sing this song as a commitment and an offering.
" Lord, I offer my life to you, everything I've been through, use it for your glory.
And Lord, I offer my days to you, lifting my praise to you, as a pleasing sacrifice.
Lord, I offer you my life.
Things in the past, things yet unseen, wishes and dreams that are yet to come true.
All of my hopes and all of my plans, my heart and my hands, are lifted to you."
(you can hear the entire song here.)
If you are also in a season of change, especially a difficult change, trust God in the middle of your story and believe that He is writing it for your good and His glory. Change can be hard, but God is good and He is good all the time, yes, even during times of change.
No comments:
Post a Comment