"Change is never easy. You fight to
hold on. You fight to let go."
I am currently sitting in an airport. My
flight from Syracuse to Birmingham has been delayed twice now, from 5:45 to
7:00 to 9:00. But I’m actually extremely thankful for that. Because God’s
timing is better than mine or Delta’s. He knows way better than we do how to
schedule our days. I really needed these few hours. To spend time in His word
with my Dunkin’ Donuts’ coffee, and to write this out. So as to verbally
process my feelings in a way that conveys them clearly to you – the sweet
person who took time out of their day to read my rambling blog about my crazy
heart.
I am, as previously mentioned, flying home
from New York today. For those who don’t know, Lewis is stationed at Ft. Drum
near Watertown, NY, so for the first year or two of our marriage we will be
living here. I’ve been here for 11 days, and I am so in love with the snow and
the people and the downtown area that I feel quite torn about leaving. I’ve
been processing a lot of torn feelings this week. It all came to the surface
when Lewis was kissing me goodnight one evening and I started crying. Poor
thing. Sweet man that he is though, he just pulled me closer and held me while
I cried and tried to vocalize feelings that even I didn’t fully understand at
the time.
I think I’ve summed them up fairly well
now in a few terms. One of which is the title of this post – “Growing Pains.”
It’s the joy and pain of a transition. As we got into a rhythm in Watertown,
meeting for lunch (nothing is sweeter than meeting your soldier for lunch, and
nothing is hotter than Lewis in uniform), going to Navigators and other Bible
studies, sight seeing, having date nights (such a blessing to have the time for
those again), it began to sink in more and more that this was my new home.
Which is incredibly exciting! But oh-so terrifying. And I began to feel lonely.
Lonely for my people and my places. Lonely for my family and the
rhythm of my life and my town. I am going into this new season with my best
friend, and my Lord and Savior and Rock, and those two facts are the greatest
comfort I have – but I still get swept up into this fear and uncertainty. Yes,
I said ‘get’ - present tense. I’m still working through this. And I think I
will have to learn it as I go.
I’m really struggling to hold back tears
as I write this, for related but slightly different reasons. I had to leave the
love of my life, my teammate and closest confidant, back in the cute little
town where I’ll live in a couple of months. ‘Torn in two’ is the second of the
terms I’ve been thinking about, because my heart feels very torn in two. Two
pieces of my life, very big ones mind you, are separated by a good bit of
distance. “Home isn’t the place you live, it’s where the people you love are.”
I have two homes. And I am having a very
hard time feeling whole.
At which point of breaking down what I am
feeling, my sweet, loving Father is reminding me how to be content, and how to
trust Him. How He is my home, how He never changes, He is constant and loving
and a rock and shield for the weak. How He has a perfect plan, and supplies my
joy and peace. He is teaching me to love Him first, with my heart, mind, soul,
and strength.
All of these feelings come in waves.
Sometimes big ones that knock me over unexpectedly. I don’t think I’m going to
figure this one out. I don’t think I am going to be able to change my mindset,
and adjust my focus effectively. But I also don’t think I have to. Or want to.
This is where I am right now. And God is taking care of my heart. I am not worried
about the end goal. And I am so certain of His love and protection.
I don’t want to get used to saying
good-bye to people I love. I don’t want it to get easy. I don’t want to become
callous to leaving my homes.
I was talking with a sweet friend last
night, she was checking on me, knowing that I would be saying goodbye to Lewis
in just a few hours. I tried to say “Oh I’m ok, I’m getting used to it.”
Because that’s what people want to hear. And that’s what made me feel strong in
that moment. It was prideful - and it was false. She quickly responded with,
“Don’t feel like you have to say that. Every time my husband or I leave each
other – it only gets harder to say goodbye.” Man, did that resonate with me. I
cry more, and earlier on, each time Lewis and I say goodbye. But that’s good. The
more time I spend with him, the stronger our bond becomes and the harder it is
to leave the other part of me somewhere else. To not have him around anymore
hurts more and more. And I’m thankful for that. I’m glad I love him like that.
Transitions are hard. Change and growth
are hard. But my support team in this adventure is pretty stellar – and I’m
ecstatic just as much as I’m terrified. It’s a balance. ;)
