Change is good, unless it happens

https://i1.wp.com/thumbs.dreamstime.com/z/plowed-field-5045265.jpg

Nice little quote, that one. Several years ago it appeared in various locations around our church which was, coincidentally, going through some serious changes.  Now, several years later, the church is again going through some major changes as our pastor of 22 years is retiring and going into a new ministry.

But this post isn’t really about change at our church.

Kate started college today. No, she didn’t move away from home to one of the universities she was accepted into. And no, she isn’t going to school full time. Just taking a freshman English class and a Western Civ class at the local community college. But, for her, it’s a big deal packed full of change, most of it uncomfortable. My gut tells me that she will come home in a few minutes, grinning like the proverbial donkey in the briar patch, and wondering what all the fuss was about. She’s becoming her own person, and needing us less and less as each day passes. Which is, after all, how it’s supposed to be.

Wubby is still living life on the edge, learning lessons the hard way, but learning them none the less. At least I hope he is. The only thing I can do for him at this point is pray, early and often. He takes baby steps in the right direction, and then gets sidetracked for a while. (And yes, I can hear you comment on my use of the phrase ‘right direction’. Comment away; I know what I’m talking about.)

Which leaves us, Hubby and me. We’ve been thinking about this for a while. About what it is, exactly that is keeping us here, at this geographical location we’ve called home for 27 years. You know what? I’ve never lived this long at one place in my life, ever. You know what else? I’m getting restless. Hubby’s job has been hanging by a thread for several years know, and that thread could break on any give day. We’ve laughed and dreamed about moving somewhere else: mountains maybe, beach more likely.

I think I’ve hit the mid-life crisis wall, dead on, at 120 mph. And it hurts. Actually it’s not the speed that hurts as much as it is that sudden stop. My thoughts are all tied up in knots about how much time I have left, and all the things I still have, and want, to do. About how many mistakes I’ve made so far and what on earth was I thinking when I made them….or what on earth I wasn’t thinking, etc. Where do I belong? Do I belong here, there…anywhere? I heard someone on the radio this week talking about how to plow a field in straight rows with a tractor. His advice went like this: look across the field to the place where you want your row to end, focus on that point, don’t look down at the ground as you drive the tractor over it. Keep looking at the goal, and when you get there, look back at the row you just plowed and be amazed at how straight it is.

Does it really work like that? I haven’t driven a tractor since I was about 12, and my grandfather was “helping”. Who’s helping now? and what am I focusing on at the end of the row? I wish I knew.

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