Change of Pace
Yesterday, I spent the afternoon and a chunk of the evening with a good friend and her daughters. This is my usual Tuesday. We play, we dance, sometimes we go to the grocery store or the park. My friend and I get a chance to catch up as we chase the girls around, and her kids call me "auntie Cara" and have come to tolerate my presence. We have been doing this almost every week since the baby was born. The baby is almost two.
Yesterday was my last Tuesday spending the majority of the day with them. I am gearing up for a new job, one that will have more traditional hours, and Tuesday afternoons will be spent there. I am excited about this change, on the edge of my seat really, anticipating a challenge, a stimulating work environment and new co-workers. I am excited, but with all transitions, I hold onto what was. I will miss Tuesdays with my girls.
My friend and I have talked about it on and off since I found out that this would be happening. I am an external processor and I need to talk things out. We come up with bits and pieces of plans, but at the end of the day, we know that we can't know what this new season will look like. We know that we don't want to lose our friendship. We know that we won't. We will be creative.
I cry when I leave. Everywhere. Also, I cry when other people leave. I have cried passionately with departing boyfriends in airports until my face was bright red, I have cried after sleepovers or visits from out of town company until I thought my heart would break. On the day of graduation from college, I cried so hard as we drove away from school that I fell asleep. I was so ready to be done with college, I couldn't think about anything else or talk about anything else. I wanted to leave. But as I left, I found myself thinking about all the things I would miss, all of the people I might never see again and all of the classes I could never recreate.
I have been ready for a change of pace for some time. I am looking forward to having a schedule like that of many of my friends. I am looking forward to creating a rhythm. But there are things that I will miss, things like Tuesdays, and shopping on Monday afternoons when stores are empty and salespeople have time to chat. There is always something to miss.
There is always a tension in each season of transition, and the fact that I am wrestling with this during Holy Week is not lost on me. Had I been a disciple, I would have wished for Jesus to remain on earth forever. I would not have wished for Him to die, rise again and ascend. There is no way I would have been able to see that far ahead. I would have thought, I think, this is good, things should stay this way.
Jesus did not do that. Maybe ever. Nothing stayed the way it was when He touched it.
I am something that He is touching, day by day, I will not stay the same either.