Transitions and Re-planting

15 Feb

Since I’ve set up the “big move” on here, I thought I’d share an update about how it’s going, so here goes:

I’m realizing that we’re all so different in how we process and experience things.  For some, a move can be exhilarating and exciting- new places to check out, new people to meet, things to keep us occupied and engaged.  Others are more tentative- reaching out here and there to try new places, people and experiences, then retreating back to the familiar.

For me, since I’ve begun to (more accurately) see myself as the “stay in one place for a long time” person, this transition has been big.  The best analogy I can come up with is a tree, planted in one place for a long time, roots sunken deep, extended in all directions.  Seasons come and go, but always with intimate familiarity: the sun’s angles at certain times of day, the sounds in each rustling of branches, which roots plow deeper while others slither hump-backed over uneven ground.  Rub your hands along the trunk and sense each familiar texture and crevice. You don’t have to look- you just know.

And then… the long-awaited move comes.

The tree is pulled up, roots and all, and moved to a new place, and it’s a big project.  Lots of digging and excavating.  Some of the roots had to be severed to make the move even feasible.  Plenty of jostling, bumps and unsettledness.  A new hole is dug, fertilizer applied, and the whole mass is plopped into new space.  Overwhelmed, the tree tries to make the best of it, but the trauma is bound to have effects.  A scattering of leaves drop, other branches shrink back protectively.  Long established roots now feel raw, pulpy.  It will take time, this transition, and the tree may not seem its old self for a while.  Indeed, it may assume a different shape altogether.

I’m just a little over six weeks in my “new hole”.  Lots of exciting views from here- literally and figuratively; so much to love and be grateful for.  Yet there’s still much that’s raw and “pulpy”.  Deeply missing good friends and familiar rhythms and spaces.  Disoriented at times.  Pondering what’s ahead while feeling strangely disconnected from both past and future.  It’s good.  It’s hard.  Lonely.  Different.  A daily journey- each one replete with its own adventures and tales.  Mostly I’m grateful for the constancy of my Rock, the One who calls Himself the Vine, and I but a branch clinging to Him.  Some days I feel His warmth and presence, others I simply choose to believe, to trust and remember.

So that’s me, currently.  I wanted to capture this leg of the journey, if only to recall it myself in rear-view.  Perhaps in sharing it, you’ll find something that communicates to you as well.

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Posted by on February 15, 2012 in Uncategorized


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