As I sit in our new home, windows open to a humid cool night, crickets chirping, the slice of the ceiling fan creating a welcome breeze against my constantly overheated body, I am left speechless again; on the brink of such a life changing event. As the baby inside attempts to get comfortable in his tiny cocoon, he reminds me that he is quickly outgrowing his current home, eager to soon be introduced to life on the other side of the womb. That home has been good to him. It has kept him safe, nourished, warm and cared for. But he can't stay there. There will be a great loss and an even greater gain as he departs. There is so much more for him than he could even attempt to imagine on the other side.
I am relating recently so much to the sadness and beauty of transition. Here we are in a new home, in a new community, anticipating the care of a new little life. I tearfully say goodbye (again) to living in close proximity to friends who know me, quiet evenings with Mark making a decision on a whim to go out, and mindless Saturday roadtrips. I say goodbye to the time in life when my own well-being and concerns are number one. And goodbye to a sweet, simple and lovely family of two.
But with every goodye there is a hello or two to be had. And so I say hello to a whole new community of people whose worth and value are great enough to inspire Christ's saving grace. I say hello to a life without classes and papers. And I say an especially splendid greeting to an awe-inspiring new life of whom Mark and I have been asked for which to care. "Hello" to a new depth of sacrificial love discovered within my soul that I could not have imagined. I say hello once again to the depth of Christ's kindness as He carries me through this journey allowing me to flourish into more of me than I have ever been before. The future is a bit scary and quite uncertain. But neither Mark, baby, me, or you can stay where we are. We must move forward. Closer to wholeness. Closer to Christ's heart. And so we move.
