As I type this, the movers are packing the contents of my house into cardboard boxes of all shapes and sizes and placing them like Jenga blocks into the back of a semi truck.
Life as I know it is about to change…again.
I’ve been talking about this move…for months, but oddly I’m still in denial about all the practical implications of this move.
Next week new owners will be settling into my {okay, their} little house on Oriole Place. And I will be settling into a new apartment, a new job, and a new place. Thankfully it’s all familiar…enough. I love Austin, the IF:Gathering team, and Central Market. Thankfully it’s not all changing. I still get to be in the Central Time Zone {I’m rather attached to it}. I still get to work with some of my favorite people on the planet, both at IF and at Feed the Children. I still get to wake up every morning to my stinky breathed but ridiculously sweet pup. Yes, there’s a lot to be thankful for, threads of grace throughout.
People keep asking me how I’m feeling.
Gosh, my emotions are so twisted up that I’m pretty sure I’ll need a professional to untangle them all. Truth be known, transitions are messier than we let on. Words don’t adequately express the ups & downs in leaving a life behind to step into what’s next.
There’s a cord of sad in there. The knowledge that the way I do life with my Nashville folks will change. The perfect little house that felt so very mine. The comfort of a well worn path.
And a cord of excitement. The work that God is doing in Austin. The amazing girls that I get to dream and build with. The idea of being closer to family and old friends.
And a cord of scared. The fears and questions that plague us all. What if I am making a mistake? What if I fail? What if I am not enough?
But the cord of hope…that’s the one that stands out the most.
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