Change is hard.
Like a glacier, changes rolled through my life, grinding up the very ground I stood on, and leaving me with a bizarre combination of emptiness, hope, despair, excitement, and fear. Nothing could have prepared me for how it feels to really have to leave behind what you thought your life would be.
Da Firstborn and da Creature are living together now, and I am thousands of miles away from my family and all I've ever known. Am I an explorer? An escapee? A refugee? I don't know yet. My reference points and landmarks lie in ruins just past all the bridges I burned to get here.Am I okay? Sure. I'm always okay.
Am I good? Not yet. Maybe someday.
Where am I now? Why am I here? What is my purpose now, without da Firstborn and her lil bro?
How do you absorb so many losses at once---?
divorce
children moving on
home of 16 years sold
2/3 of all I've ever owned sold or donated or thrown out
moving across the country
You become brittle and shatter. Fortunately, for me, that is my default state. I like the notion of surface area---that God touches our broken pieces, precious and proud---that He touches as much as we allow Him, getting God sticky fingers on every part of our lives, until we wall him out again. We wall Him out, as though our very lives depend on this persistent, fragile need to be in control, and we leave Him no choice but to tear it all down and break everything apart again... in the wreckage, our false self floats aimlessly in the debris and He can finally touch all the small, brittle, shattered pieces the fortresses of our false self had tried so vainly and valiantly to protect.
That is where I am.
