I don’t know about you, but it feels like everything is changing by the hour: the news changes by the hour. Directives change by the hour. Moods change by the hour. Grief itself changes by the hour.
Just this morning we found out our boys will be out of school until at least the beginning of May. This is not surprising, but it’s another reality check, another dose of unwelcome (yet understandable) surprise.
When news like this hits and all those “known” things now have now been upended and turned upside down, I too end up feeling like I’ve lost my way – like I don’t know which way is up and which way is down.
I suppose this is normal when change becomes the only rule of this game, the throes of transition the only guaranteed outcome.
Of course, I normally fancy myself a rather loosey-goosey kind of individual. But when all of the change and all of the transition happens at the very same time, not just to me, but to each person in my house (and subsequently, to every single person on this blessed planet), well, that’s a whole lot of change and transition for anyone to swallow.
I wish I had the perfect answer to this very complex situation and problem, but the truth is that I don’t. None of us, in fact, do.
Instead, the only thing I know is that I get to keep showing up with the three boys that hold my heart. I get to keep looking for beauty in the most unlikely of places. I get to keep thinking about what it means to color outside the lines, especially when it comes to being equitable toward our neighbors (and especially when economic disparities between the rich and the poor feel like they’re growing by the second). I get to keep choosing love and light, and sometimes, when I’m feeling particularly in tap with God, I get to nod my head toward the skies and say, “Well, thanks. This matters. Wow!”
And also? I get to keep crying big tears. I get to keep letting expletives roll down like thunder. I get to lean into exhaustion instead of trying to produce and I get to admit to myself and others that this is hard – because friends, this is hard.
Right now, I’m doing whole lot more reading than I am writing. As I posted last night on Twitter, I’m not one of those writers who can enter into a creative space in 15, 30 minute bits …and these 15, 30 minute bits during the day are all I seem to have in between teaching and caring for my sons. By the time evening hits and the boys are tucked into bed, all snug as a rug, well, that’s just about the time when exhaustion hits.
Write an entire article or a blog post? Pitch an online or print publication? Lay out dreams and plans for the Next Great Memoir, for that middle grade novel that’s sure to take America by storm?
All of this ends up being doubtful by the time 7 o’clock rolls around, so the only thing I can do is read and rest and lean into the tiredness.
I suppose you could say I’m making peace with change.
Like you, I needed to be reminded that change is normal and change is okay. Transitions are hard and transitions are inevitable, but if the last couple of weeks in our country (and the last couple of months in our world) have shown us anything, we’re not alone in how all of this change and transition is making us feel.
So at this point, all I really know is that we are all invited to make peace with change – after all, when change is the only constant, the only thing we can do is seek peace.
After all, as Gina says in her book…
“How we respond to our own hearts in transition will set a pattern for how we respond to others as well” (71).
“Grace needs to show up in so many places in transition in order for use to embrace it fully. And it begins with giving grace to ourselves” (99).
“Vulnerability is the path to remaining openhearted as we navigate transition” (137).
Might peace be yours this week as you navigate through the myriad, constant change happening in our world and in our lives.
In this with you,
How are you doing with all this change and all this transition, my friends? How are you seeking – or making – peace with change?
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