It’s funny, living this semi-nomadic life. We exist outside of place, not time but it often seem like time moves at a different pace for us. We come, we go – we sever ties, or just wrap them up and freeze them for later. We go and then come back and time has skipped along – we see it in new gas stations, the growth of children and in the new products lining store shelves but it seems wrong with time only having dabbled, dragged, dripped and scuttled along.
But here it is, almost a new year. My baby is two, the big boys so big. And our stint overseas, initially a year, then near three – is almost over.
There will be endings and new beginnings. We long for stability; a home where we can hang shelves and have pets. And a mini van to soothe the cramped car blues (not to mention the bad news from the mechanic about my aging Subaru). A homeschool co-op and my kitchen aid mixer from storage. All the little strings of our lives that have been stored here and there, shoved into nooks and crannies or merely a chest of hopes to await a day when it will all come together. Coming home is an exciting prospect!
But there is fear here too – it comes unbidden and unwanted. Job change is scary enough but it’s that and everything else. The missing of beaches, and novelty. Job security and holding patterns. The unknown is scary but God knows and that does bring me peace. I’m no stranger to these periods of tumultuous change, these times when I am standing on a cliff in the dark with only faith to guide my next step. I guess I always hoped it would become easier with practice or time. Maybe to an extent it does. I don’t have the luxury of ruminating over the anxiety with three small needy boys. I just press onward. Onward. Ever onward.
And so here we are greeting another new year. We hope to do so with grace, peace, trust, and joy. But I can’t promise there won’t a wee pinch of trepidation along the way.