Change used to mean adventure, excitement, learning new things, proving myself in a new arena, making friends, and expanding my thoughts, knowledge and mind.  It meant college and courses that drew me in and filled me with wonder.  It meant new countries and their people.  Change was an invitation to explore different cultures and find the thread of similarity amongst the constant of differences.  It meant the edge of fear, the sense of anticipation, and was driven by the question “What of this will someday be familiar?  Who in this will be in my life for awhile?”

Change was marked by firsts – by tangibles – by events.  The first time I kissed my Steve.  The first drive down the winding countryside to land at what is now our secluded wooded haven.  The first long soul searching – toe counting – moments with each of our daughters.  Change looked me in the eyes when I moved from Stow to Columbus and willing left my dream job at the Zoo.  Change was understandable, sought out, welcomed, and renewing.  Change was growth, sweet diversity, and, well – fine.

More recently, change — has changed.  It hasn’t left, but it has evolved, twisted, folded back upon itself.  It tastes unusual in my life.  It is heavier, less stimulating, more like tea, then coffee.  Recent change is marked by letting go of and walking away from oldest – leaving her six hours away at Hope College.  It looks like agreeing to a part-time job for youngest – a job that takes her away for three or four days of each week.  Change envelopes the sale of our lives as business owners – drawing Steve and I in different directions – pulling us into two separate working worlds for the first time in 23 years.  Change is evidenced in the deaths of our canine companions, and the holes that they left in our hearts.

Change has encompassed my work life, my family life and the way I see the world.  Change has settled in for more then a casual visit.  Change has dropped a trunk into my living room and is squatting on my heart.  Change has moved in.

Though I welcome change in, again, as I have so many times in the past — my attitude is not as cavalier as it once was.  In this season, I am aware of the heaviness of change, its impact is perceived more clearly, more precisely.  No longer is change just a sweet entry into something new — it is a tangle of lives, a weight of import, a reminder of vulnerability.  Change now points out imperfections, it breaks down protective walls, and it clarifies what I have grown to know so overwhelmingly — I am not in charge.

So, change, I lean in.  I have long ago accepted my imperfections, and I wear them contentedly — working through all that they represent.  Change has lead me through a time of not caring for myself, and I have been dragged into the knowledge that I cannot continue to love up others if I cannot be kind to myself first.  And change has taught me that I can willingly let go of who I thought I should be in order to embrace who I am actually meant to be.

Daniel 2:21-22 fits my heart for this topic, and Brene Brown presents the vulnerability part of this better than I can — and we draw a lot of the same conclusions!

25 May This entry was published on May 25, 2013 at 11:46 pm and is filed under Sincerely out in left field. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.