A new season — a new space where I’ve not yet existed. This fall I said good-bye to full time employment on church staff. An 11 year season coming to a close.
It’s been the full gamut of all emojis — anticipation 🙂 — regret 🙁 — satisfaction 🙂 — disappointment 🙁 and all the in-betweens. At times I launch forward with out-of-the-box ideas and fresh dreams, only to then freeze with fears of missing out and financial anxieties, searching for some sort of stable equilibrium.
As I process all of the highs and lows of the previous season, I actively seek what’s next. The dreamer and hope-finder in me is alive & well, but the strategist and planner within craves an excel spreadsheet.
Instead, all i have is my vulnerable heart that says hope is worth the risk.
I actually don’t believe in myself.
I mean, yes, I believe in myself when I’m hidden in “we”, but when it’s up to just “me”, I feel like a fraud and failure.
Don’t get me wrong, “we” is incredibly important. “We” is honorable and essential. But “we”, for me, is now a dead leaf on a tree. It once was fresh and vibrant, but the signs of the season being done were that it was dead and desperately hanging on– the leaf needed to fall and make way for something new. And through this necessary ending, I am now gifted with the opportunity to learn something full of spring green… that letting go and employing confidence in myself requires just as much hard work as humbly submitting to others’ visions once did.
Because isn’t it like our Father to keep us on our toes? Right when we’re in a groove and feeling good about our mastery, there’s a twist. A change. A curveball. There’s another part of the mountain to explore now. And for me, this new adventure is without my usual buffers. Instead, I have to be exposed and vulnerable. To risk failure and judgments and be OK when those happen. Venturing into the new can be scary enough, but treading it alone is terrifying.
I think Bryant McGill said it best:
“Maybe your life is not falling apart;
Maybe it’s falling together.
Don’t fearfully hold on to what needs to end.
The familiar life crumbles so new life can begin.”
And in my daily grind of the unknown, one thing is certain — I’m discovering more of who I am and Whose I am.
It’s a bit of a mystery how letting go and pausing can propel us forward. How saying “this is who I’m not” can make a way for us to embrace who we are. I’m learning new angles of both myself and of God. Reminding me that HE IS THE MOST CREATIVE BEING I know. And I can trust Him to bring it all together.
I’m discovering life is not one eternal summer (even though my Floridian children have NOT come to terms with this). No, life is seasons. Fall involves death. Winter requires the pause of hibernation. And spring blooms new life in the brightest green. Each is natural. Each is necessary.