Approaching the Bend

I have a Maya Angelou card on my desk at work.  It says, "Whether you are happy or whether you are sad, remember you are always in process."  It's from Big Brother.

The card has been sitting there since April 9, 2013, ​​when Big Brother sent it to me.  I remember it came as a tremendous comfort and encouragement to me when I received it -- I read it over and over, and it made me cry.  I was at Point A, and desperately wanted to be at Point B -- or at least not-Point A -- but I didn't know how to get there, or if I would ever get there.  Big Brother reminded me that I was in process; even if it felt like I wasn't moving, God was moving me in His time, and one day I would probably see how and why.  I always kept his card on my desk as a treasure of great advice and perspective.

It's been more than two years since I received the card, and I reread it yesterday.  Of particular relevance, Big Brother wrote:

As for non-sustainable jobs. I guess I've had a suspicion in my head that the current stress and pace of life was unsustainable for you both, given that you both have so many laudable and wonderful priorities but only limited time and energy. My hope is that as you both figure out what is ahead and blaze a new trail forward, that you will be able to fully say farewell to this season and its work, and then move wholeheartedly into the next season's work.

It just seems sometimes that we may have gone the wrong way, but the great news is that in the end my guess is that you'll have a better idea of why each season and change was needed/why God allowed for them. . . . 

The great news is that amid all of the uncertainty and transition, you will have no choice but to lean heavily on the One who is in control of all, and Who keeps us from having all the control for the very reason he designs -- that we may feel and acknowledge fully our need for Him. But it's never easy because our flesh hates it. So we'll be praying for Emdash and Hobey.  :)  . . . . Every season is as He designs.

It's taken more than two years to move to a real transition point from this season.  A lot has happened during this last period -- both hard and good things.  I'm excited to be at a point where we can start to prepare to "fully say farewell to this season and its work."  

But it's not so easy, leaving so many friends behind.  The initial euphoria of landing the job I've always wanted and (almost always) felt called to has worn off a bit, and now we're thinking about the mechanics of moving and uprooting our family...and bidding farewell to so many beloved friends who are like family.  We're bracing ourselves for a season of isolation and loneliness as we feel our way through a totally new environment and eventually figure out (hopefully sooner rather than later) how and where God would have us grow and serve.  We're steeling ourselves for a long period of transition as I learn (again) how to do an entirely new job.  We're walking boldly into an opaque fog, one foot in front of the other, with little more than a conviction that this is where God has led us after so many years of prayer and seeking.

I'm a little scared.

I'm scared of the isolation, especially coming from a place where we are surrounded by so much love.

I'm scared of starting over, especially now that I'm finally comfortable where I am.

I'm scared of starting a new job -- even if it's the thing I've always wanted to do, and I actually feel more prepared than ever to tackle it.  

I'm scared that even once I get good at my job, I won't somehow do it in a way that pleases God, and mirrors His heart for justice and mercy -- that I'll get sucked into the fear of man and just do what man requires.

I'm scared that the stresses of transition will fracture our family, rather than strengthen it.

I'm scared that it will take a long time to find a new church community...or that we'll find one, only to be disappointed that it doesn't measure up to our dear friends here.

I'm scared of moving back to a place of little racial diversity.

I'm scared that I've lured my family into a place where it won't thrive.  And it will be my fault.

I freely admit:  I'm quite petrified.

And...maybe that's good.  Because as we approach the bend -- as wonderful as it is to be finally(!) at the bend -- I am reminded that we need God more than ever.  We needed Him to survive the last couple years of confusion in the desert. But now that He has led us past that, ... we need Him all the more to plant this next garden and help it to grow.

Dear friends, if you are reading this, please pray for us along these lines. Pray that we would be bold and courageous IN CHRIST as we move forward in faith.