The thing about moving that drives me nuts is the 'in-between' phase. Where you are neither here nor there. You are in your house, but none of your stuff is. Or you are in a hotel. Or temporary lodging. Anywhere but the place where you are meant to end up. You can't start anything. You spend your days trying to finish off loose ends, collect spare change, vacuuming up cobwebs that have been growing unbeknownst to you for five years. You see this big THING looming in the future, but you can't quite tuck in and get to sorting because it's still dangling just out of your reach.
It's in this in-between place, this place where you are constantly in transit, where I think I used to... how do I put this? Let myself go? Sure, that sounds right. But not in the sense of physical appearance (but let it be known that DUDES, I AM A STRESS EATER). More in the sense of letting go of my life on this end. Pulling back from relationships. Starting to let go of duties that I have taken very seriously up until this point. It's normal I think. Leaving a place hurts, so we knowingly or unknowingly do what we need to do to lessen the pain. I get it. I am a master of backing up when I see pain coming.
But this time it's different.
The end of our time in England is drawing near. I have had 5 years to grow roots here, longer than I have had anywhere since my childhood home. And, boy did I grow them. I find myself getting close to leaving, and now suddenly I look down and there they are, weaving in and out of the house, the church, my family-on-this-side-of-the-pond. And instead of panicking, of running backwards, snipping away at the tendrils holding me to England, I am reaching out, encouraging them to grow, grow, grow. Touching them here and there, and instead of shying away from the pain of separation looming on the horizon, I find myself smiling at the thought of being blessed enough to have a wonderful reason to hurt so much.
I found a journal of mine that I had written in two years ago. I spoke of a feeling I was getting that God was leading me into a big lesson on community. See, I was not so keen on community. I had my husband and children, and we are all rockstars at being hermits, and I was content. But I could sense a change coming, and I smile now thinking that even then I could catch a glimpse at what was on the horizon.
Enter the church, and all of the wonderful people it held within its doors. I look at my community now and I am in awe, and not quite sure how I was able to grow so many solid friendships in so short a time. And I love the fact that it will be hard to say goodbye. Because that means they meant something. That means that my roots were able to grow deep enough to tap into what I see now as a life-giving give-and-take that happens between people. Something that I was missing for a while there.
So now, in this in-between place, I am sitting here continuing to nurture these parts of me, letting them grow, letting them blossom. Because maybe when I leave they won't break. Maybe when I leave, that connection will be so deep that an ocean won't matter. Maybe when I cut and ran before, I wasn't protecting a darn thing.
I can't help but be giddy at what lays ahead of us. But I am also giddy at what I get to do in transit. I am in my in-between place. So let's get to growin.
