Transitions
2013.02.01 Charlene DiFonzo Holmes
Late this morning I met with a my friend, Rhonda, whose home is as charming, warm and inviting as she is. It’s southern appeal and large front porch made it appear as though it was plucked right out of northern Virginia and plopped right into Ohio. My friend kindly agreed to look over some of my writings to give some critique and direction. She did just that with kindness and intelligence. She gave me several suggestions one of which was the need to be careful with my transitions, that sometimes I can be hard to follow. I need to consider the reader with the information I am giving them. Will the reader be able to clearly follow me to the destination I am taking them? Finally as we were wrapping up she reiterated, "transitions are difficult."
Well, that was a mouthful . . . aren't they though? Whether referring to putting pen to paper or the daily vicissitudes of life, transitions are difficult. Even good transitions are at best disruptive.
From big transitions that are drawn-out, such as moving to a new home, getting married or having a baby, to momentary transition that take a few hours, minutes or moments, such as reorganizing my closet, driving a different car or putting on my flannel sheets -- all call for different levels of internal accommodations. For myself, even moving my flatware to a different drawer is tough--how many times will I reach for the old drawer before I remember it's new location.
My life, I’ve concluded, is one continuous transition. Each day brings something new. If only I were to consider the day itself . . . I am dealing with a new day. I am one day older. Is the rain transitioning to snow? Is it morning or has it transitioned into evening? Did I wake with a new ache or pain and transition into accommodating that irritation for the remainder of the day? Did I discover we are out of milk after I filled my bowl with my favorite cereal and now I need to transition my thoughts from Cheerios to toast?
I've deduced that the better I handle transition the less frustration I experience in life. Unfortunately I fight transition tooth and nail. I hate it because it makes me think and thinking takes energy. I love doing tasks by rote; in fact I love doing life by rote. I don't have to think, I just do it mechanically. I can move through my day absentmindedly, throwing in a load of wash, packing the dishwasher, driving into town and even walk through my home in the dark without incidence----unless of course, I’ve rearrange the furniture, then I’m doomed.
Schlepping through my day mindlessly and through my life regularly fighting transition reminds me of the Israelites. They fought change from the moment they left Egypt through the 40 years wandering the dessert. God called them a ‘stiff-necked’ people because they fought Him at every turn. Like me, they enjoyed the security of knowing what their day held, even if it was miserable. It is comforting to know when my food is coming, where it is coming from and what it is. There is stability in finding water for the day’s need in the same place every day. But in the wilderness? Life was unsure, unsafe and undefined. The reality of my life is also unsure; control is a myth of titanic proportions that I buy into regularly.
But, God is not a God of rote, or being mechanical or mindless. With each day and each moment, transition awaits me and my perception of its goodness or badness determines whether or not I embrace it or fight it. By missing even the smallest transition, I can easily miss what God has called me to on this day. I may miss the “divine appointments” or the “coincidences” from the One who creates them. My preoccupation with life’s modified agendas predisposes me to miss the joys in the details of life, poignantly placed by the most magnificent and extravagant of detailers--the Creator.
Accepting transition, even embracing it means I must let go. It means sitting in a wagon being pulled by a half dozen wild horses without reins--without the resources to control them and go where they take me. It means SURRENDER. Accepting and embracing transitions is allowing my will to be molded to His will so I am free to see what is around me, who is around me, the nuances of those I love. It moves me into position that allows me to notice a new beauty that surrounds me, like soft falling snow, because I’m not preoccupied with bucking the transition. I might notice the not-so-obvious needs that are in front of me, like a child with tears behind their eyes. It means “letting go”, and refocusing my eyes so I may see life in all of its glorious dimensions. It means I must resist living by rote and thoughtfully embrace my transitions so from moment to moment, day to day, year to year and ultimately from gravity to glory, I can clearly follow the Lord to the destination He is taking me.
Well, that was a mouthful . . . aren't they though? Whether referring to putting pen to paper or the daily vicissitudes of life, transitions are difficult. Even good transitions are at best disruptive.
From big transitions that are drawn-out, such as moving to a new home, getting married or having a baby, to momentary transition that take a few hours, minutes or moments, such as reorganizing my closet, driving a different car or putting on my flannel sheets -- all call for different levels of internal accommodations. For myself, even moving my flatware to a different drawer is tough--how many times will I reach for the old drawer before I remember it's new location.
My life, I’ve concluded, is one continuous transition. Each day brings something new. If only I were to consider the day itself . . . I am dealing with a new day. I am one day older. Is the rain transitioning to snow? Is it morning or has it transitioned into evening? Did I wake with a new ache or pain and transition into accommodating that irritation for the remainder of the day? Did I discover we are out of milk after I filled my bowl with my favorite cereal and now I need to transition my thoughts from Cheerios to toast? I've deduced that the better I handle transition the less frustration I experience in life. Unfortunately I fight transition tooth and nail. I hate it because it makes me think and thinking takes energy. I love doing tasks by rote; in fact I love doing life by rote. I don't have to think, I just do it mechanically. I can move through my day absentmindedly, throwing in a load of wash, packing the dishwasher, driving into town and even walk through my home in the dark without incidence----unless of course, I’ve rearrange the furniture, then I’m doomed.
Schlepping through my day mindlessly and through my life regularly fighting transition reminds me of the Israelites. They fought change from the moment they left Egypt through the 40 years wandering the dessert. God called them a ‘stiff-necked’ people because they fought Him at every turn. Like me, they enjoyed the security of knowing what their day held, even if it was miserable. It is comforting to know when my food is coming, where it is coming from and what it is. There is stability in finding water for the day’s need in the same place every day. But in the wilderness? Life was unsure, unsafe and undefined. The reality of my life is also unsure; control is a myth of titanic proportions that I buy into regularly.
But, God is not a God of rote, or being mechanical or mindless. With each day and each moment, transition awaits me and my perception of its goodness or badness determines whether or not I embrace it or fight it. By missing even the smallest transition, I can easily miss what God has called me to on this day. I may miss the “divine appointments” or the “coincidences” from the One who creates them. My preoccupation with life’s modified agendas predisposes me to miss the joys in the details of life, poignantly placed by the most magnificent and extravagant of detailers--the Creator. Accepting transition, even embracing it means I must let go. It means sitting in a wagon being pulled by a half dozen wild horses without reins--without the resources to control them and go where they take me. It means SURRENDER. Accepting and embracing transitions is allowing my will to be molded to His will so I am free to see what is around me, who is around me, the nuances of those I love. It moves me into position that allows me to notice a new beauty that surrounds me, like soft falling snow, because I’m not preoccupied with bucking the transition. I might notice the not-so-obvious needs that are in front of me, like a child with tears behind their eyes. It means “letting go”, and refocusing my eyes so I may see life in all of its glorious dimensions. It means I must resist living by rote and thoughtfully embrace my transitions so from moment to moment, day to day, year to year and ultimately from gravity to glory, I can clearly follow the Lord to the destination He is taking me.
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