How to Survive Transition

I turned on the television for my big kids, and snuck away to my bedroom. It is messy- true, but it is quiet. I have decided that there is not nearly enough quiet in my life. Even my husband finds life more productive with early 90’s pop music blaring throughout the house when he is home, and the kids, well, they are constantly making music by use of butter knives, gavels, and rattles. Paul has been taking the kids to the park more and giving me time to rest, all the while assuring me that the more rest I get, the more tired I will feel. I don’t know if that theory is true for pregnant people, but maybe it could be since I manage plenty of sleep and still feel tired. Even now, I could nap, but since I don't feel rested, I am going to try a creative outlet for making it through another evening.

Sonora cracked open the door and poked her nose through, “I am hungry, mom.” I’m not entirely sure I made lunch today. At around noon the kids and I made hummus together, and I cut up cucumbers and put out a bowl of chips to accompany. Jake said he was still hungry about an hour after this, so I smeared some honey and peanut butter on store-bought wheat bread, and tossed it on the table for him. When Sonora asked for food just now, it got me wondering if I had fed the baby more than hummus. Maybe Paul fed her when I took a shower.

These are just my days now. The kids are still in pajamas. I shaved my legs today because I thought we were going somewhere. In a matter of moments, plans changed. It is beyond easy to feel sorry for myself: I can’t drive thanks to an expired license, none of our expectations for this season have come to pass, and worse of all in my sphere, we are running low on food and I can’t do anything about it. My husband has been shopping- God, give me grace to give to him. None of this is his fault, let me be clear. It is my job to steward my emotions- not allowing food, healthy or not, to send me into a dizzying panic attack. It is my job to choose joy, to trust God, and be patient as I persevere through a season that is quite frankly, one of the most difficult I have seen in awhile. All I can think is, I just want my life back. I can’t even figure out how I once ran a household smoothly. It’s not that we are falling apart completely, but there is such a lack of structure and it would crush us all- me especially, if we just resumed life as it once were. Seasons come and go, and there are tools and strategies for thriving in each. Leaving transition starts at ground zero. Here is how we moved forward: First step, establish routine bedtimes for the kids. Second step, establish flexible meal times. Third step, don’t neglect the children’s needs as I scramble to have my own met. Fourth step, don’t blame this mess on your husband (I know better than to blame it on God). Fifth step, Don’t blame Texas for being a lonely place to live when you have done nothing aside from stay indoors. On and on. Transition is brutal. Believe it or not, even though I am requiring an inordinate amount of sleep and caffeine right now to survive, that still makes me a survivor.

So, here you go, another list. How to weather transition well:

1) Get out of your head! That’s right, no daydreaming. No assuming the worst, especially. But don’t lie to yourself either- transition is not simple. Just take a deep breath and do some self-talk, “I am a strong person, and I can handle this. Whatever happens, I will be fine because I’ve lived a long {insert age} years and I’m still here.” Before we hit the road to Texas, I agonized over the journey (3 children in the backseat of a standard-sized sedan for 6 days of driving 8-10 hours, through some metropolitan cities you could not pay me to return to). I was dreading it. Every now and then I was able to rise above that dread and just face the facts- this is hard, but I can do this.
Not, I will probably die on this journey, which I was tempted to meditate on.
Or, This is going to be FUN! Definitely never went there.
But the realistic self-talk helped me realize that even when life is hard, I am not a fragile person.

2) Make a to-do list. We established, transition is not simple. Your brain will be over-extended, and that’s completely normal. Keep a to-do list going, on paper. Don’t give your brain more work to do. Whenever you cross something off the list, take a deep breath- you’re one step closer to your goal, which is to survive transition.

3) Don’t buy into the lie that you’re lonely. In life, we should always keep the main thing the main thing- relationships with people. Love the people in your circle really well. Transition can be lonely at times. It often feels like the more you accomplish, the more you still have to do. Who doesn’t want to crawl into a hole when they feel worthless? Don’t do it. Make yourself sit on the floor with your kids while they eat breakfast, or talk to your spouse while they’re checking off their to-do list (best not to talk to them while they’re forming it). If you feel overwhelmed, take another deep breath. Don’t isolate yourself.

4) Let-it-Go. Without breaking into song, of course. You probably won’t do a lot of singing in this season, sorry. You will have to give up things that matter to you during a season of transition. A few things off the top of my head- comfort, structure, security, a healthy diet, possibly your health or the health of your children {as an addendum to the afore mentioned}, FINANCES, quiet time, and possibly a small amount of time where your vision for life can become cloudy. These things though, they’re not necessary for survival short-term. Remember? Keep your relationships healthy. All those other things, if you feel them slipping away, just lay them down for a bit. Transition may be brutal, but it is almost always temporary.

5) You have permission to freak out. As much as you want. Just make sure to separate the real stuff from the irrational stuff, and wrap it up fast. If you can’t wrap it up, confess it. There were many days on the road I simply did not want to drive, but I kept it to myself. A day came when I had not slept well the night before, and 8 hours into the driving, we still had 2 more hours to go. I finally broke down and confessed to my husband that I would not be able to drive any longer. He wasn’t happy that our well-laid plans had been foiled, but he also knew that I wasn’t compulsive with this feeling stuff. He “let it go” and booked a hotel for the next town. I LOVE him for that…I was borderline suicidal at this point. A little extra trip here: It’s best not to let it get that far.

6) Not everyone believes in Jesus, but if you do, talk to Him a lot. Even if you can’t feel Him or hear him. During my transition, the first “thing” to go was quiet time with God. I’m talking, getting away for a bit and closing the door. There really isn’t time for that when you spend 10 hours in the car at a time and live in hotels. But the purpose of Holy Spirit is so you have a friend, and every now and then I would just remind myself of that. I’m not alone. I mentioned before, transition can drive anyone into isolation- the busyness, uncertainty, and strain. I really found that as I separated myself from relationships, I also felt distant from God. When I was distant from God, I couldn’t recognize myself. Ultimately, me with God, that is who I am. Sometimes I would beg God in the car to just let me feel him like I might in church, or in the prayer room. I would get nothing. I would ask Him a question and strain the “ears” of my spirit, and again, nothing. Times of transition, while often times fueled by God’s tugging, are an intense time of spiritual battle. As you move forward into chaos, you will be introduced to yourself- perhaps a version of yourself you hadn’t been acquainted with before. Some if it is truth, some of it lies. All the while, with a foggy radar, you are left to decipher. This is when everyone has a choice to stay in faith and stand on truth, or be tossed like the double-minded man in the first chapter of James. I feel hardly qualified to deliver this message, but I know it’s the truth. Faith can feel foolish. I heard Bill or Eric Johnson say once, “Faith isn’t blind, it’s visionary.” In essence, you could be in transition for the sake of something that hasn’t come to pass. Often times that looks like nothing is happening. Or, the obvious, you’ve been abandoned. 

The truth is, God is faithful. You will survive. In the natural cycle of life, some sort of stability will always follow transition. Even if you don’t find it, it will somehow find you in just the daily sort of piecing your life together once more.

7) Read lots of scary news. Not really. But keep life in perspective. Ever heard of, “What doesn’t kill you will only make you stronger” ? Transition is no exception. You’re still alive. Your kids may contract weird viruses on the road, or hate their new school, and your husband could slip off into becoming someone you don’t recognize for a season, only because transition breaks you and shapes you, and no one makes it out the same as they were before. But in the greater scheme of things, take another deep breath here, you are a survivor. You are moving onto bigger and better things, from glory to glory. You will soon have a story to tell, much like I do….I made it. To sum this up, I want to share that as I was listening to a Jesus Culture song the other day, a lyric stopped time and massaged balm into my soul, “The Winter has passed, and the Springtime has come.” The Lord, who has been uncharacteristically silent in my life, spoke up, “That’s your word.” I’ve been going around the house singing that one line, “The Winter has passed, and the Springtime has come.” That’s my perspective, by the grace of God, and I think the theme of transition.

8) Think on Spring. It’s coming.

Sacrificial Love

      Tonight, I talked to my son about the Ebola outbreak in Africa. This wasn't the first time. We talked last week when I read the news and saw that the young doctor had been affected. I told Jake what happened and called him to a task, "Pray hard." The story moved my heart, hurt my heart, burdened my heart, and for days I prayed for healing for Dr. Brantley. As the details unfolded and his age became published, quotes from his family, and pictures of his young children, I prayed all the more. I reminded Jake just days ago, "Don't forget to pray for that doctor. He is a missionary." Then, we talked about what it meant to be a missionary. I told him that our roommate from last year, Nicolas, had learned about Jesus when missionaries visited a remote country in Africa. His chief accepted Jesus, and later the mayor. Nicolas is very special to us. I told Jake about Sonja and Andrew, his aunt and uncle that he adores, and reminded him that they had spent nine months in Africa learning and participating in mission work. Then, I told him about Jim Elliot, a missionary who had given his life to serve others. The devil is not such a fan of missionaries, for obvious reasons. 

When I read headlines of the young doctor being brought to America, such hope began to rise within me- YES! America, you are the one. You are a safe place. America, you have always stood as a beacon of hope! 

        Anyway, my hope was immediately offended- if hope can be offended, by the comments I have read beneath the trending articles on facebook. I realized very quickly I was in the minority. Tonight I explained to my son the situation at hand: Missionary from America is sick with deadly disease, that can be contagious. Contagious means people can get it. He was in Africa, with lots of other sick people. The remote areas of Africa do not have very good medical care, that is why an American missionary went there. What should we do? Like a well-trained little disciple he answered, "Pray!" I goaded him onward, "Yes, we are going to keep praying. What else?" He said, "Get him to a hospital that can help him!" I asked him the obvious questions, "What if other people get sick?" 

     And still, his innocent mind wasn't grasping how we could leave this American doctor in Africa. Don't hear me say that Ebola isn't frightening, or that I wouldn't hold my babies a little closer if I lived in Atlanta by Emory Hospital. I'm just saying that it's important to ME to teach MY children that putting your life on the line for another is the ultimate picture of love. Sacrifice equals love. The emergency personnel that ran into the twin towers on 9/11 and gave their lives. To save one person, if they were able. The parents that wrap their arms around helpless infants and jump from multiple story windows when a fire is raging. Pedestrians that hold tight to car accident victims, and they themselves are side-swiped and their life ended. Sacrifice. The truth is, a positive truth that perhaps many avoid in the light of heightened drama, is that maybe no one will be sacrificed in this ordeal. Maybe this doctor will become well, and this will all blow over in another week or so and be replaced with another "Your lives are in imminent danger!" story. That is my hope- sort of. In either case, I explained to Jake both sides of the spectrum and told him why I was glad the doctor was in America. Yes, it could present a potential danger. It's a sacrifice to bring him here. But, we're America. We're the best.

And P.S: Were all going to die some day.