It is Time

Yesterday felt like "one for the books".
Final paycheck.
Cleaning out my office.
Saying goodbye to our laying hens in a rather sudden fashion.
Finding out that we can move with Baby K at any point.

There was a certain finality in yesterdays' events.
The stark realization that I wasn't being Punk'd, but that all the things that had unfolded in the last several weeks were, in fact, real. That our everyday was about to look very different. That my life for the last almost 7 years was actually ending. It's not just the job... because, when you live and work at camp, losing your job means losing a lot more than losing an occupation.

In the finalities, however, there was also so much blessing and goodness.

As I rifled through the things in my office, it felt like a fitting departure. After all the office moves, I was ending where I started. Saying goodbye where I said hello. A perfect bookend to a season I didn't anticipate ending in this way, but every ounce of me knows: It is time.

I don't know how to describe the inner workings, or the thoughts, or the feelings... but I can assure you that even in the moments of the deepest pain, there also exists a deeper peace-- a peace that resolutely knows it is time.

Time to move on.
Time to explore what's next.
Time to discover new beginnings, new challenges, new (and maybe old) friendships. Time to trust God in the uncertainties, in the unknowns, in the anticipation and excitement of what could be. And there are a lot of those.

If you asked us today where we will go and what we will do, we would have some ideas. Our current plan is Columbia, Missouri (where I grew up). We'll be boomerang-ing for a while, which I imagine my parents are both thrilled and terrified about. Kel is already working his way through a real-estate course and dreaming up non-profit start-ups.

I, on the other hand, have been slow to latch onto anything concrete to pursue. I think a lot about discipleship, spiritual formation, counseling, church ministry, etc. ... but then feel content to just wait, to be, to see what happens. At least today. In the coming weeks, I imagine I'll be fine-tuning my resume and casting it out to the masses in hopes that something catches....something that I can be passionate about.

It's been both hard and good to watch the life we've built up for ourselves crumble around us. As we purge, clean, and sell so many of our possessions, there is a great reminder that this world is not our home. It's a great reminder that so many of the things I store up, the things I place value in, the things that I hold onto... they only last for a finite time. It makes me reconsider what I want, what I buy, what I spend time on, what I value. Because, in a moment, everything in our world can change. Everything we found comfort in, security in, hope in. I'm so thankful that today, this only means our jobs, our house, our community... and that today I still have my husband, our baby, and our health. Today we are still a redeemed humanity, saved only by grace - even while we were sinners. How beautiful that this never changes. May we rejoice in this truth alone!

It is time to sing a new song on this earth.
While we're not leaving today, or tomorrow, or the next day... our remaining time in New Mexico has an end in sight. We know it will fly by. We grieve, we mourn, but we rejoice in celebrating the end of an incredible season and the beginning of another. It is time for new beginnings, new routines, new dreams, a new way of life.

May our hope be resolutely found in the One who does not change, even when all around us can and does. May we rejoice in what is true, despite the hardest, saddest things that may be surrounding us. May we fix our eyes on what is unseen, may we be unified in our love for the Lord and others as we navigate through these "unprecedented times" and through the uncertainty of what lies ahead.

AND, if you have any great suggestions for next my career moves, I'll happily add them to my list to consider :)

Baby K rolls!

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