hello monday: vol. 23
Hello, Monday. It's been a while.
When I decided I didn't want to write every Monday just to write, I didn't exactly plan on taking a 2 1/2 month hiatus from the blog completely. It just sort of happened.
You see, there's a lot that's been going on.
I'm in one of those seasons where it feels like my to do list is never ending, which happens to us all sometimes, but usually it's just for a couple of weeks and then you can breathe again. This is a never ending to do list season that, itself, feels a bit never ending.
In a little less than two weeks, I'm heading to the West Coast for an Alaskan cruise with my two sisters and my sister-in-law to be. Pending an apartment and the working out of some other logistics and final details, four weeks after I return, I'll be moving. And between that move and the end of the year, I have a business conference, two weddings I'm in (one of which is my brother's), Thanksgiving, a trip to New York City, Christmas, and New Year's.
When I think about all that's happening and needs to be accomplished before now and the end of the year, it exhausts me to the point that I've frequently wished I could just skip over it.
Despite the fact that there are a lot of incredible, super exciting things happening over the next 4 1/2 months in my own life and the lives of those I love, I've repeatedly said, "Can it just be January already?" more times than I can count in recent weeks.
It's a sentiment I'm sure most of you are familiar with. Sometimes it all just feels like a little bit too much and we're just sure it would be so much better if we could jump ahead to when things were easy and calm again.
While I can't say that particular feeling or desire has gone away, I've felt convicted by this desire to skip over several months of my life, several months filled with so many things that I know will be wonderful memories, just because it feels too hard.
As much as part of me wishes I had all the time in the world to sit down and read #allthebooks, I think it's been good that this is a book I'm being forced to consume at a more leisurely pace.
Among other topics, one of the things Hannah talks about in the book is being where your feet are. She shares about her own experiences of wanting to run and be somewhere new and how, throughout the years, she's learned the value in being rooted and planted and the discipline required to live life in that way.
It's been weird and good for me to read this book in the season I'm in.
On the one hand, it's been good for me to mentally prepare myself for this upcoming move. To remind myself that it's not all going to be sunshine and rainbows at first. To remember that all my problems and issues are not going to magically disappear and my life isn't going to instantly become picture perfect just because I'm living in a new city and state. To preach to my own heart that it won't be easy, but the work of building a new home there will be worth it and it will be good.
On the other hand, I haven't made that move yet. And there are some things up in the air right now that could push the move back again. For the third time.
I've been in limbo now for over 15 months. Three of those months were spent in my parents basement, where I not-so-patiently waited to end my temp job, start my business, and head down to Florida. Then five of those months were spent in Florida, where I sometimes patiently and sometimes not-so-patiently waited for my business to grow so I could move to my dream city.
Then things changed and life happened and the last 7 1/2 months have been spent, once again, in my parents basement, as I worked through some things personally and continued to grow my business in order to make this move a reality.
What I've found is that it's hard to be where your feet are when you know your feet aren't going to be there for very long. But as difficult as it is, I'm learning it's of vast importance.
If we're always living and looking for the next thing, even ones we know are definitely coming, we miss out on life in the same way as if we were to actually skip over four months of it.
This is something I've struggled with for a long time.
The last 4 1/2 years of my life have been lived with a vast amount of uncertainty, instability, and one or more areas of my life constantly being in limbo.
It's been difficult and it's been exhausting, but it's also been sanctifying.
I fully admit that I don't know what the Lord's doing right now. He's shown me bits of pieces of why certain things have happened over the last two years — like losing my job, which opened the door to start my business — but there are so many other pieces, both big and small, that I feel completely blind to.
And yet I know that He's working in all of it — the pieces, big and small, that I do and don't see now, in the near future, or ever this side of heaven.
Yes, the tired, frustrated, sinful, human part of me wishes it was January already, wishes I could skip over the next 4 1/2 months and I'd come out on the other side with a magically completed to do list and way more sleep and energy than I have right now.
But the part of me that knows the Lord knows what He's doing even when I don't also knows that He's working in this season — He's working in the busyness, in the possible delays, the never ending to do list, and the prolonged season of limbo.
He's working in all of it, at all times, in incredible ways, and we'll miss it if we aren't living where are our feet are at.