Change Happens

I like change. Actually, yes, it’s true—I’m one of those people. Perhaps it’s the feeling of constantly being in motion toward an adventure of sorts or a necessary variety I require that leads me there regularly. I think life would be rather boring if things always remained the same. All of that said, over the past decade I’ve learned that while I welcome, even need change, I must have ample opportunity to process big adjustments. In fact, understanding that has brought tremendous freedom to my life--and likely those in or around my life. Before I knew this, I never ‘got’ why I’m so quick on my feet with most decisions, but needed major time to deliberate (mostly with myself) other considerations. 

Today, my friends and I learned that we have to move. Our landlord decided to move back into the house for a variety of reasons which is completely acceptable; the only thing is, I’d asked him numerous times over the past several months what his thoughts were on reissuing a lease. He kept putting me off (maybe he really didn’t know) and I continued to wonder. Prior to moving here, I negotiated contracts on a regular basis so when he continued to be non-committal, I felt very unsettled. Now I know why. Call it a hunch or that I felt it in my gut, but here we are thirty days out and in need of a home.

Beyond that simple reality, I’m disappointed. I love this house, neighborhood, the access I have to people and things to do nearby. I love the relationships I’ve built here and the ability to quickly connect with friends who live within minutes. I’ve viewed this as a place to minister and reach out—it has become that in more ways than I can count. I love how my furniture fits here and the way that we are in the middle of everything, but had tremendous privacy. It sounds sappy, I know, but it was like a dream come true to live here—truly, my very own version of “Cheers”—I’d longed for a place like this since I lived in Boston and what a sweet gift it has been.

It’s not to say that we won’t find another place in the neighborhood or within close proximity. If we did, I’d be thrilled. That, too, is not a guarantee, but even if it turned out that way, one truth remains: it won’t be this place; it will be different. Things are changing. In fact, as I processed some of these thoughts with one of my roommates today, she said, “It is a big deal. You didn’t choose this…” Such a simple truth… I didn’t choose this, rather, it was chosen for me. I guess that’s what is making it harder. 

Maybe that’s why the tears came when I forced myself out of the house to pick up a couple of things at Target. Tears welled on the drive there, I mostly kept them at bay in the store, but the dam broke on the way home. I bawled. Not just a dribble, but the kind of sobbing where you make the weird wheezy breath noises (and I have a hefty head-cold to boot—pretty, huh?).  I told the Lord how sad I am and about my disappointment. I also told Him that I trust Him. He knew this was going to happen. He knows where we’re going to end up and I know that He’s good in this place. I’m just really, really sad.

As all of this was unfolding, I realized that part of the reason I’m sad is because I planted myself here—in this house, in this neighborhood. I’ve always loved that passage in Jeremiah 29 when the Lord tells the children of Israel to settle into life where they’re at—build houses, settle down, plant gardens, marry, have kids, work for the good of the cities (and they’re in captivity!). He wants them to live where He’s placed them. I guess I’ve done that again here—settled in, made this home. Somehow it doesn’t lessen the pain of being uprooted. And, that’s where I’m walking by faith tonight. Ready to be replanted wherever He deems best in thirty days or less … Here we go…