Face set like flint…and jello
I’ve heard it said that when God closes one door He opens another, but it’s hell in the hallway.
Boy howdy, does that ever seem to play out true.
Transition. Change. It’s happening around me left and right. Knowing it was coming didn’t ease it or lessen the shock. In the Big Picture, it’s not unwelcome. In the immediate picture, it’s turning every breath into a battle. I can see how this is supposed to end, but getting there? Wow…
I wish I was one of those persons who can waltz through transitional seasons with confidence, power, and grace. But the truth is that I’m limping, shaking, and have shed more than a few private tears and even a few public ones. It’s a violent roller coaster of thoughts and emotions, and I no sooner get my balance than something throws me off again.
And sometimes it’s the smallest, most ridiculous stuff that throws me off. That surely doesn’t do much for the confidence factor, that’s for certain.
I am barraged by an internal stream of questions. What if I can’t keep up? What if I never fit it? What if everyone thinks I’m always this much of a basket case? What if I AM always this much of a basket case?
The only thing I know is that I have to keep facing forward, moving forward. Turning around is not an option. And that means that if I have to move forward completely undone, then so be it, and I’ll let the chips fall where they may. It’s not my preference– I much prefer a more tidy process– but I’ll take it over turning tail and returning to the illusion of safety.
Be gentle when you have to remind me I said that, please.