Well, I'm drawing out this transition piece so you're not reading one long post. But, isn't that how transition goes? It is a process, taking time until one is settled into a new situation.
But then life settled in as years went by. Sure, there were
family transitions that come with the cycle of life, but the thought of major
transitions seemed behind me. His presence seemed so untimely in such a season
of life. I didn’t really want to change life’s circumstances. Life was
comfortable. Familiar. Predictable. He was like an annoying neighbor knocking
on the door just when you’re ready to sit down for dinner. I wasn’t expecting
him. It was in these times when he seemed so insensitive to life’s
circumstances. His presence was more like an intrusion. What? Now?!
This wasn’t the way it was suppose to go. Why didn’t you show me the map?
I’d reluctantly invite him in; offer him a seat at the kitchen table, suppressing my irritation with him. I’d listen to his reasoning. I’d argue with him. There were so many reasons why it didn’t make sense.
He would graciously listen to my ranting and ravings, and then with a nod of the head, he’d quietly say, “To gain something you’ve never had, you’ve got to do something you’ve never done.”
Yes, but . . . but . . . but . . . and he’d look at me with that knowing look, “It’s time.”
And, so, I’d step through another door. Not so eagerly as I did in earlier years.
And, like every other door, he’d go with me. He didn’t seem to notice the upheaval he caused in life. He’d sit back and watch, almost like he knew something I didn’t know. His presence bothered me, and yet at the same time it reminded me of the questions he asked from the very beginning. He didn’t have to say much. His presence itself would make its mark. He knew and I knew I would eventually come around and lean into a new season. And, he would introduce me to people, take me to places, and teach me new lessons.
The late-night walks would come again and we’d process life together. He in his thoughtful trance, first eyes to the ground, then that slow upward look into the stars, and me listening for the words that mapped out my life.
Funny thing. The map he began sketching in our beginning days has grown from a small pocket-size map to the kind you have to open up and lay out on a table. The borders have changed and many new features have been added, like oceans and continents. Sometimes he will get the map out just to remind me of how far I have come from those early days. Not only in distance and time, but in heart and soul.
Transition does that to you.
I’d reluctantly invite him in; offer him a seat at the kitchen table, suppressing my irritation with him. I’d listen to his reasoning. I’d argue with him. There were so many reasons why it didn’t make sense.
He would graciously listen to my ranting and ravings, and then with a nod of the head, he’d quietly say, “To gain something you’ve never had, you’ve got to do something you’ve never done.”
Yes, but . . . but . . . but . . . and he’d look at me with that knowing look, “It’s time.”
And, so, I’d step through another door. Not so eagerly as I did in earlier years.
And, like every other door, he’d go with me. He didn’t seem to notice the upheaval he caused in life. He’d sit back and watch, almost like he knew something I didn’t know. His presence bothered me, and yet at the same time it reminded me of the questions he asked from the very beginning. He didn’t have to say much. His presence itself would make its mark. He knew and I knew I would eventually come around and lean into a new season. And, he would introduce me to people, take me to places, and teach me new lessons.
The late-night walks would come again and we’d process life together. He in his thoughtful trance, first eyes to the ground, then that slow upward look into the stars, and me listening for the words that mapped out my life.
Funny thing. The map he began sketching in our beginning days has grown from a small pocket-size map to the kind you have to open up and lay out on a table. The borders have changed and many new features have been added, like oceans and continents. Sometimes he will get the map out just to remind me of how far I have come from those early days. Not only in distance and time, but in heart and soul.
Transition does that to you.
Thanks for reading. God has once again increased our borders to include more continents and oceans. I'll be sharing in the weeks ahead about the current transition we find ourselves in. We are humbled, honored, and excited all at the same time. Your prayers in this transition are essential to the work and in our lives.
1 comment:
Mom, you are such a great writer. I loved reading all three pieces together as one whole. I especially liked the ending part about revisiting the map just to see how far you've gone. We're so excited to be apart of your map as family and I'm inspired to see how gracefully you and Dad navigate transition.
Post a Comment