Change

It’s hard to write when you are surrounded by a swirling vortex of change. Thoughts and stories are whipped away by the wind. You might do your best to grab them as they circle round, but it’s likely they’ll be shredded by the time you recover them.

That’s my position the last few weeks. I’ve always known our future was hidden in the mist. When we moved here, to the townhouse, two years ago, we knew we’d move at least once more before we settled down. The townhouse has been a wonderful rest stop, but it’s not the final destination. (Lest that be too cryptic: We need more space for our family and we desperately need a yard.)

But suddenly, the mist is starting to melt away. And the future, previously gray and shapeless, is starting to form into something resembling … well, something. It’s hard to tell still.

All I know is, I’m hurting my mental eyes as I strain to make out what’s ahead.

On one hand, I’m excited about the next chapter in the adventure. I can’t say I dislike change. I’m invigorated by it. I’m easily bored by the same. (Interesting future post: How I struggle to balance my lust for the new with God’s decree to be content.) There’s a part of my soul that’s being re-energized by the approaching possibilities.

But there’s another part of me that is frustrated by the uncertainty. I’m definitely a sanguine. But I’m also a planner. I thrive on organization. And change, by its very nature, is hard to control.

A good editor would slash this paragraph, because it doesn’t advance the story, but I’m going to share it anyway. I was poking around The Secret Life of Kat this last week and came across a Q&A she did with Shaun Groves. And Shaun described his wife, Becky, this way:

My wife is my opposite in most ways. For one thing, she’s intensely organized. Organization is her drug. I sometimes wonder if we had kids just so she’d have more people to keep organized..you know, in case she got bored after getting my life together.

I laughed out loud. If organization is a drug, then yes, I’m an addict. I make menus before I go grocery shopping. I do the laundry every Tuesday. I organize my children’s books (although not alphabetically; even I’m not that sick.) I have a system for everything. This makes me uber-productive, so I’m OK with the weirdness. But sometimes, it does start to control me. And when the winds of change start to roar around me, my inner control-freak wants to scream. But HOW is it going to work? And WHERE are we going to live? And HOW CAN WE BE SURE this is the right thing?

Ahhh. And there’s the rub. I want facts, not faith. I want a well-defined path ahead of me, not one that is veiled in mystery and suspense.

But that is not the life of a disciple. God’s best adventures are lived out in the unknown. And there’s no better time to exercise what I believe about God than in the eddy of change.

Which means I’m trying to do one of the most unnatural things in all of humanity -- I’m trying to face the vortex with peace, joy and a strong infusion of believing God.

Because while I don't know the future, I do know Him.