When Transition Becomes a Tradition

December 10, 2013 ~ Emily ~ Leave a comment

transition and tradition

I haven’t had a normal Christmas in a few years.

By normal, I mean waking up at my parent’s house, waking up my brother who I’ve convinced to stay the night at our parents’ place (mostly so I can wake him up at my leisure), opening stockings, having a special breakfast, distributing presents and opening them around the circle one at a time, hanging out with various members of the family, enjoying dinner, then reading one of my Christmas presents (because I invariably get at least one book) the rest of the evening.

The last Christmas I had like that was three years ago. Dating, marriage, and moving have all disturbed my normal when it comes to holiday traditions. Before that, college and loss created their own unique transitions. This year is no different. Baby James’ due date made flying to New York for Christmas (the plan before I became pregnant) a bit iffy. My parent’s travel schedule, which included Coeur d’Alene in November and then again in January, made it impractical for them to come out in December too. So, Tim and I will be spending this Christmas alone.

Alone. Initially that held all the bad connotation you might imagine. But the longer I sat with those plans as reality, the more I realized God had my best in mind.

You can read more about how transitions have permeated my holiday traditions over on Kindred Grace today. Bonus: the post includes the recipe for one of my favorite holiday foods!

How Grief Gives Me Joy

November 4, 2013 ~ Emily ~ 1 Comment

She said you carry them inside you, collecting them along the way, more and more and more selves inside you with each passing year, like those Russian dolls, stacking one inside the other, nesting themselves, waiting to be discovered, one and then another.

Shauna Niequist | Bread and Wine | 182

My Gramma had a set of Matryoshka (Russian) dolls. I remember carefully unlocking and lining up each new, smaller figure. The thin wood gave off such a distinct smell; I could almost smell the craftsmanship required to create that very set. Each doll had similar coloring and patterns but didn’t look identical to the one before or the one she held inside. Now, years later, I cannot think of a better picture of this process called life. Though the core of who God created us to be remains intact, we develop different layers as we mature. Each layer, like those stacking dolls, is still inside, making up our history, filling out the person who we have and will become. Our season in life and our circumstances help form the current shell, but we can unpack those former selves with some simple pressure on the seams that hold us together.

Sometimes I can’t wait to jump into a newer and bigger self. I’m all too eager to cover up my previous model and start filing out the roomy interior of my new circumstances. Although there were nerve-racking elements to the transition between high school and college, that was one time I was ready to move on. I wanted to explore a new place, stretch my intellectual, spiritual, and social muscles in a different arena. Distance and youthful energy helped me snap the college Emily shut over her high school counterpart.

Then there are the times I have a hard time clipping the newest doll over the old one. I’m not ready for the changes that come with a new season. I fear the old doll, my old self, will be lost, that everything embodied in part of me will be gone forever. The years following college were a bit like that. The seams of a new season were already pressed shut around me but I so desperately wanted to go back to what I knew best. I missed the structure and scholarly stimulation of higher education. I missed the freedom, with limits, that college afforded. My new responsibilities and the endless possibilities made me uncomfortable.

I’ve added a couple more dolls since then. I established a wonderful community of friends in California. I dated, then married, Tim. We moved to Idaho. We became homeowners. We began chipping away at developing a new community. Each of those new layer was added with mixed feelings, some more mixed than others. And now what seems like the biggest change of all, parenthood, is forcing another changing of the guards with my Russian dolls.

The adventurous, newlywed, Emily is having a hard time being shut into darkness. She keeps reminding me of the great things about herself – freedom, energy, possibilities – and the other dolls nested inside her. With such a drastic life change approaching, it’s difficult not to look back instead of forward, to see the things I am giving up instead of things I am gaining. I want to celebrate the things ahead, but am having a hard time letting go of the things behind. And that makes me feel guilty, especially because what lies ahead is truly a joyous thing.

But as I look back on those nestled dolls with sadness at what I can’t get back, I realize that too is part of the process. I cried over the loss of my intimate circle of friends when we moved. I cried about acclimating to a new church culture. Even marriage, something I had longed and prayed for, came with it’s own set of things to cry about as Tim and I adjusted to one another. I’ve shed tears about being pregnant, too.

I’m learning that grief is good. And because grief is good, I can let go of the guilt. Grief, without the guilt, is what makes us able to move forward with joy.

A vital aspect to living in the present is learning how to grieve and how to grieve well…When your life is going to change, there needs to be an acknowledgement of what is changing.

Kristin Ritzau | A Beautiful Mess | 144-145

My pregnancy wasn’t planned, but I expected my emotions to react like having a baby was all part of the blueprint I had drafted in my head. The quicker I tried to shove myself into this new season, the bigger and more unruly I became. Had I allowed myself to fully mourn the loss of my life plan, it may not have taken me so long to begin accepting God’s plan.

Twenty-six weeks in and my dolls are finally settling into their new home. I still have to process my new identity as a mom on a regular basis, but now when my former selves get angsty, I allow myself space and time to grieve with them. I acknowledge the changes ahead, open my hands for God to take what I’ve been holding onto, and accept whatever He gives to replace it (which is always better than I could ask or imagine!).

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Letting Go For Future Promises

September 17, 2013 ~ Emily ~ 7 Comments

My current everyday Bible is a very slim NKJV I received from my mom for my twentieth birthday. Just a few months later I headed off to Oxford for my first semester studying abroad with that Bible in tow. Since its maiden voyage, that Bible has been all over the world, from the States to Europe, Africa, and many places in between.

I love my Bible. I love its textured “is it brown? is it maroon?” cover with the slightly chipped gold letters forming my maiden name in the bottom right corner. I love the quotes collected over the past six years creating a patchwork of truth on the first blank pages. I love my mom’s inscription written in her perfect cursive. I love seeing the letter Tim wrote me last summer stuck amidst the Psalms. I love the slightly bubbled pages of 1 Corinthians, aftermath of some rogue rain drops. I love the yellow colored pencil over references to God’s light. I love the sound of the paper thin sheets being turned.

Most of all, I love the underlines. I love the notes crammed in the margins, some completely illegible. I love the dates, denoting a promise or a commitment, next to a poignant verse. All of those brackets, circles, cross references, notes, stars and underlines remind me that God speaks.

He speaks to me. When I invest in His word, He is faithful to reveal Himself. Those markings prove to me that God is personal, alive and active in my heart.

But I’ve become distracted. I read and I linger over the underlines and notes, inattentive to what God wants to show me today. I rely on the familiar for comfort and strength. My notes and underlines that speak life also create traps, snares for the nuggets hidden between the lines.

I’ve decided to retire my beloved Bible for a time. A tabula rasa, if you will, takes its place. When I think to much about the blank pages ahead, I fear that they will remain blank. What if I’ve lost my ability to hear from God? What if God can’t speak to my heart? When that happens, I can just look at the slim spine sitting on my bookshelf and remember all the little piles of stones that reside among those pages, evidence of God’s faithfulness to His people, to me.

Home and Choosing Joy

September 3, 2013 ~ Emily ~ 5 Comments

It’s been over a week since Tim and I returned from New York and I’m still recovering – less from jet lag (though there was plenty of that) and more from the emotions of leaving a place and people I dearly love.

Every trip to my now beloved Central New York leaves me more and more bewitched by a certain little lake and the rural landscape that seems to shout simplicity. Now more than ever it’s a place to relive good memories, spend time with family, and relax.

After spending 8 days in my happy place, I was hard pressed to keep my return flight. I’m convinced that if I wasn’t returning in a month, Tim might have been flying to Idaho by himself. Well, and the fact that I would miss him terribly… Despite the fact that I am returning so soon, the end of this trip was bittersweet.

I’ve finally reached the point where I don’t consider Southern California home only to have it supplanted, not by Idaho, but by New York. Our trip wasn’t just a vacation, it was like going home – and leaving home is always difficult for me.

The first couple days back in Coeur d’Alene were tough. I was wrestling with desires I knew couldn’t become reality at present and a present reality I thus had a bad attitude toward. I’m still wrestling with the former, but the latter was improved by a realization, and resulting choice, I had last Friday.

Tim was preaching at our church’s Father Daughter Camp. The 45 minute drive to Camp Cocolalla (great name, right?) is rather lovely. As Tim remarked on the pretty sky and the setting sun shining through the copious pine trees, I found myself not wanting to agree. I actually did find the landscape quite pleasing, but didn’t want to admit it for fear it diminished my appreciation for New York’s natural beauty.

I was purposefully holding out on the truth in order to make a point.

Where did that get me? Nowhere except for Sulkville. Despite the fact that Sulkville was initially soothing to my bruised desires, I knew it wasn’t a place I could live indefinitely. God and Tim know my desires without me being pouty to make a point.

My choice was obvious: I could remain gloomy or choose joy. Though I am not always successful, I am trying to choose joy. For me this means seeking and acknowledging the little treasures around me – the scent of Fall in the air, pine trees and thunderstorms, new friends and building community.

Just because I acknowledge the things I really enjoy about the present doesn’t mean I have to abandon my desires. It DOES mean that I surrender those desires to God and continue to give thanks for His many treasures.

The Power of Prayer

June 26, 2013 ~ Emily ~ Leave a comment

I’m a journaler. There’s a box in our garage that contains a mismatched pile of diaries, notebooks, and journals from junior high forward. Some of them I’m tempted to throw away because they are so very embarrassing, but then I think about what all those words represent, even the humiliating ones. Those words represent a journey, a mind and heart being molded along the primitive roads of life. All the emotions and thoughts, pain and joy found on those pages are part of a process that never really ends.

Aside from the ocasional embarrassment, I truly enjoy rereading my old journals. More often then not, God uses past struggles or epiphanies to encourage me in the present. This happened recently as I was flipping through my current journal.

February 12th, 2013 (my momma’s birthday!!)

Sometimes I look at the date and just stare, amazed at how quickly the days progress, making November slide right into February.

I have vastly underestimated the power of prayer. I’m very aware that God answers prayer and that it’s a powerful tool to see change and miracles happen. But prayer goes beyond God’s actions. Prayer isn’t about cause and effect. Prayer is about submission and community, intimacy and surrender to the Lord Almighty. Prayer is less about God moving in our circumstances and more about God moving in our hearts. ( <– Tweet this! )

I was just lost in time for a moment, taken back to the year I was living on the Central Coast of California, working as an innkeeper at The Cass House. I was fresh out of college and the job, living situation and location just fell into my lap – absolutely a God thing.

After acknowledging how He orchestrated my circumstances, I left Him out of my daily life. I mastered life in Cayucos on my own and then became discontent when things didn’t go my way. I didn’t meet the love of my life, community took effort I wasn’t used to giving, and I missed my family. Instead of brining those feelings to God consistently, I let them stew and grow until the aroma dominated all of my senses.

I was still pursuing God and He did great things in my heart during that time, but I can’t help but wonder what would have happened had I not been so intent on directing my own life. I fI had been bringing my desires to God, maybe heartbreak would have been easier. If I had sought God for comfort and community, maybe I wouldn’t have felt so isolated. If I had been pursuing God’s plan, maybe I would have had more peace about making tough decisions.

Being a woman dedicated to sharing her heart with her Abba may not have changed my circumstances – and that’s certainly alright when I reflect on what I did experience – but I would have had a heart yielded to God’s will instead of a striving heart trying to manipulate God’s will.

Prayer puts us in a position to be transformed by God. It may not alter our circumstances, but it will alter our hearts. ( <– Tweet this! )

I generally always need to be reminded not to strive or manipulate, but I really needed to be reminded that prayer does more for our hearts than our circumstances. Prayer binds us to our Heavenly Father and brings peace and comfort. I need that.

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