Transitions

Twenty-three-plus years ago, Carol and I were attending one of those classes expectant parents attend to calm their nerves and give them something to do while they await the presence of their first child.  Our instructor routinely used words generally reserved for hushed conversations as she told us detail after detail of the birth experience, right down to a discussion about what most couples do with the placenta - that rich mass of nutrients essential during pregnancy and useless afterward.

It was in this class that I became familiar with the word:  transition.  While the goal of pregnancy is the baby, there seemed to be one last battle to be won, one last Jordan or Rubicon to cross, one more travail to endure:  transition.  Transition was that time when the baby's  delivery was soon and very soon.  Though extremely hard on the birth mother, it was simultaneously a moment of exhilaration and anxiety.  And it would be worth it:  new birth, new life, and all that entails.

Five kids later, transition is taking on a new meaning.  It was over a year ago that my mentor, Ben, mentioned the book, "Managing Transitions: Making the Most out of Change" by William and Susan Bridges.  Ben was helping me work through the changes in my life -- ending ten years in Cambridge, moving to Haiti for one year, preparing for life after Haiti -- and he helped me see that we don't really move directly from one thing to another but instead we have a time between the two things where our attention to the former is starting to wane and our attention to the latter is continually growing.  In other words, there was a place between Cambridge and Haiti called transition and there would be a place between Haiti and "whatever is next" called transition.

Transition is life partly in the old and partly in the new and actually not fully in either.  It is also a place of great inner growth, when we allow it.  The Biblical narrative shows God's people in transition almost always.  In the Old Testament we saw them on the move, toward the promised land, and even when they physically arrived, they weren't fully 'there.'  Even the New Testament story, with the coming of Jesus is described as a time of "already, but not yet."

The season our family officially kicked off on Friday is the season of transition.  Meghan and Kristin returned to Ontario then and Erin will move back on Thursday of this week.  The rest of us return June 5th.  It has been an incredible year, but it is time for transition.

Carol and I are both having conversations with employers in Ontario - actual and potential - and much of our thoughts are simultaneously consumed with the shaping of life to come while continually giving good attention to the life, ministry, and opportunities that lay in front of us here.  While I speak, Carol and Erin are planning a seminar they are leading on Tuesday.  Tomorrow I will be in front of a class of pastors teaching the difference between hermeneutics and homiletics (yes, it matters!).

I'm sure that in future blogs we'll be able to share more about our life to come and we look forward to doing that, but for now it is important for us to park in the transition, to take this time seriously for the lessons to be learned in it, and to enjoy the presence and leading of God for TODAY.  In a sense, we are like babies in the womb, and while the "nutrients of this placenta" might not be useful for the life to come, it is intensely life-giving to simply pay attention to and feed on now.

If you are in a transition, I get that you are either mourning what was (looking back) or eager for what will be (looking ahead), but let me urge you to while you mourn or anticipate to be sure you give lots of attention to simply BE.  Live in the day that God is giving you, today.  Notice the people who ARE around you, rather than focussing on the people of the past you are missing or the people of the future who are unknown to you.  Notice the way your stretching in so many ways is actually creating a new you now.