TRANSITIONS...

Transitions usually happen with a change.  Duh.  But I mean a big change… like uprooting a life of 13 years, putting it in a 26 ft. truck, and moving to a place you’ve never lived before – in fact, a place you’ve barely visited.  That’s “transition.”  I could get into the “whys” of it all, give you a blow by blow account of what pushed us off the cliff into the unknown, but that would just muddle things up even more.  Bottom line – God orchestrates every movement into unexpected symphonies, no matter how painful the process has been…

And it has hurt.  A lot.  Still does.

Funny thing about hurt.  It’s like a chemical scrub – layers of things begin to peel off.  Things like defenses, assumptions, agendas – things you didn’t even know were there – until all that’s left is what’s real.  Being naked before God is not a pretty thing, no matter how spiritual you think you are.  I mean, this is where theory – and theology – has to become reality.  Can you trust God when there’s nothing else left to trust?  If I’m being real, I have to say it’s hard – real hard, because I like the things I can see and touch.  I like to know there is a visible cushion when I fall… and most days I feel like I’m in free fall without a parachute.  No matter how I try to distract myself from this realness, it’s just there.  And I’m unclothed of myself, waiting for Daddy to dress me.  

Do I trust Him?  Every day is a boots on the ground working out of that question.  I’m not writing a story – I’m in the middle of one, one more real than location… more real than stuff… 

I guess this is what I mean by “transition.”