Our lives are all transitions. We move in and out of seasons of love, loss, education, rest, play, and blessed sleep. Sometimes in those transitions, the movements are heavy and hard. They feel like inches, but from a 10,000-foot view, those were huge miles of movement. Sometimes that movement goes by quicker than a Texas thunderstorm or the wind through the Joshua Trees in the California high desert. You learn from both. The agony moments don't have fast-forward options, and the joyous ones do not have pause buttons. You have to take it as it comes. You learn to know that whatever this is, it won't be forever. Even death that isn't forever in the world I inhabit. It is a temporary situation.
Let me be clear, we are fine. No one is gravely sick or dying. These are just observations to help drive home the temporary nature of our world.
Our family has begun the transition period that is common in clergy families. We don't have a lot to share at the moment. But we knew and knew this curacy period was temporary. We know that by next summer there will be a new adventure. We do not know where that will be yet. We do not know what the months leading up to and after will look like. We know that we move into liminal spaces yet again. We know that there is a plan; it just hasn't been revealed just yet to us. We have faith it will be the right place, for the right reason, at the right time.
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