Poised on the Precipice of Change

Those six words have run through my mind for a few months now. You see, this summer has been one of a series of urgencies. As summer approached, I had in mind a litany of lazy days filled with audio books, water parks, beach days, "real" books, a giant garage cleaning/organizing project, and restful Sabbaths. In my intent these would be peppered with a handful of events we were specifically looking forward to - the kids' week of theater camp, a couple of almost-on-the-field baseball games, a Broadway show, Confirmation (and a beachside celebration to go with it), and tickets to a Cowboys game. I was also hoping to insert a meandering trip across the country in there, somewhere, to spend some time with my family.    

But, other things were in store.

My Grandfather's funeral prompted the cross country trip a little earlier than planned, after which GG, our old Golden Girl of a minivan, decided it was time to turn it in, allowing us to turn the page on the minivan years of our life. The children did get confirmed, but I hadn't returned home in time to plan the imagined seaside party. Thankfully Mimi and Papa joined us in California to celebrate, and Nana and Poppie were, of course, there too.

It was during all of this that Eric received a phone call feeling out his willingness to consider pastoring a church in New Jersey.

New Jersey!!

Now, here's the thing. I adore New York. Well, New York City - I haven't seen very much of the rest. Around this same time I had been having very vivid dreams about New York. (One in particular about looking for a specific leopard print pashmina that I neglected to buy while Eric and I were there last October, and in each rendition we would run into various individuals and would have an adventure...but I digress.) This church was in a bedroom community of The City.

But I have always wanted to live in California. Every single pore of my body responds with relaxation to the California beaches, breezes, palm trees and seemingly contradictory combination of laid back breakneck pace. I LOVE it here. I love being from here. I am crazy about the people we are with here - from our church family, extended Body of Christ family, 12 Step/AA family, school family, friends, neighbors, Starbucks baristas...you name it, we are surrounded with some pretty special people. And none of them are in New Jersey.

When Eric first told me of this conversation, he asked me what I thought, and all I wanted to say was "No Way!!!" New Jersey evoked, in my unacquainted mind, the Saturday Night Live sketch where Fred Armisen derisively jeers "New Juuuurseey...", drunken air-headed escapades on the Shore, leopard print everything, and giant hair. (Although, considering the dream pashmina, in measured doses I do like a good leopard print.) But at the same time as "Nooooo!!" ran through my mind, an undercurrent of "What if...?" emerged as well.

And then the questions - Do I really trust that God has good plans for us? Do I need specific circumstances to experience joy?  Even specific people? Whose plans am I more intimately allied to, His or mine? Am I going to choose to perceive the unknown as negative, or potential adventure? Does the radical change that has been worked in our family's lives have purpose and legs beyond our current range of influence? I felt prompted to open my hands and release the stronghold on my ideas of what (and where!) we were to do, and began to open myself to the great unknown that lay ahead.

You see, one of the things that I have learned, although likely not definitively, but at least to a larger degree than I had embraced before, is that the only place that I will be fully free to move in power and peace is where I am Purposed to be. When I say "Yes!" to God's prompting Word and direction, I know that His provision will be there - even if from my vantage point I cannot yet fathom how. I also know that spending (wasting) time ignoring, arguing, or complaining about a clear path or directive only breeds discontent and covetousness in me, which have repeatedly proven to come out in the most un-lovely of ways.

So I said "Wherever God has planned is where we need to be. Let's see what happens." And internally I began to release MY plans to what was about to be revealed.

I felt quietly Poised on the Precipice of Change.

I saw increasing beauty as I moved through the SoCal summer days. I relished the palm tree lined, sunset view as I waited in the drive-thru line for In-N-Out. I breathed the balmy, salty sea air and dug my toes into the soft California sand, collecting shell treasures and my favorite white rocks with my children. I ever so tightly hugged the people we got to see regularly with precious release, knowing that this imminent and unknown change could number our otherwise frequent and unremarkable touch points. I prayed for clear and specific wisdom to recognize direction as it came, and was reminded minute by minute to rest, trust, and release. I loved and perceived for the minutia of what they were tiny moments of pleasure in the everyday activities of life here and now.

On one such night, late in July, our family took a walk to explore the brand new high school campus adjacent to our neighborhood. I relished the pause in our urgent summer, and looked forward to August - fresh with possibility, and from the heart work that had been happening impregnated with potential change. I thought we could salvage August, rest well, finish a few preparations and projects, and arrive ready for whatever lay ahead in a healthy mind frame.

But on this night, every detail seemed imbued with beauty. We walked through the perfect San Diego climate in an alternating four person jumble of hand holding, laughter, and teasing. The sky was a brilliant blue, streaked with pinky orange as the sun progressively set. Thalassa and Eric sang songs in preparation for their Joseph auditions, and begged for more stories of "when you guys were kids!" As we walked I tested and tried many campus doors and gates but to Eric's relief did not, technically, trespass. Eric, to my relief, continued to eagerly walk further into the campus, engaged in exploring as well. We then found a place to get some dessert, and headed happily home. I felt a sense of awe at how perfectly content a relatively unremarkable evening could feel, but at the same time knew that what was remarkable was how relatively new the ability to embrace content, in any situation, was for Eric and I.

If change was coming, we could weather it.

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