I suppose I have become accustomed to change. A life in ministry has meant frequent moves for my family, making transition more of a familiar friend than an unwelcomed houseguest. Learning to live in the “in-between” goes against our nature to seek comfort and cocoon ourselves within it, undisturbed, for as long as possible. We instinctively cling to what we know and shy away from new territory. But, life is cyclical. The seasons relentlessly come and go, making change inevitable. Over time, I have begun to await and almost treasure walking through the next open door, although this eagerness has not been without cost.

Inwardly, I have struggled to find a place of sanctuary amongst the transiency that defines the life of a pastor’s family. I often lie in bed at night, staring at the ceiling that watches me sleep, wondering if I’ll ever be at ease. I ask my husband, “Do you feel at home here?” He knows I never have. Always anticipating the next phase, it has been tough to truly connect with the present and form close relationships. As though I sense myself pulling away and resisting attachment, I try in vain to stay one step ahead of an impending goodbye. It seems the key to peace lies in somehow finding that balance between security and flexibility; not being afraid to open myself up to the experiences of here and now, while also being prepared to bid them farewell. I envy school children as they excitedly soak up every ounce of sunshine during their summer vacation, all the while knowing that it will soon be over.  

The lack of consistency in my surroundings has taught me to search for solace elsewhere.  Regardless of where on the map my nomadic ventures take me, my God is unchanging, and my faith is home to me. Discovering this truth has sustained me through the passing away of seasons and people and jobs and homes and ministries. Because of this, I thank God for my life filled with moving boxes and new faces. I may never find a physical place of comfort in this life, and I’m content with that. My hope dwells in knowing that something better lies before me, just beyond another transition.

 And so, I cherish the chapter “in-between.” There are lessons to be learned through uncertainty, and the journey itself allows one to emerge a transformed person, time and again. I am renewed by change, and I welcome the next season. After all, Fall has always been my favorite time of year. Its briskness is a refreshing contrast to the dog days of summer that precede it. The leaves that thrived during hot, muggy months seem to have one last, colorful hurrah before their nearing journey downward. Although its very presence signals winter approaching, nature embraces Autumn. It celebrates the harvest and all the changes that comprise it. This is what makes the season smell the sweetest of all.