We’ve been going through our belongings, starting to prepare and set aside for our upcoming travel. Okay, that’s a slight exaggeration – by ‘going through’ I mean we’ve made a few lists and have had a lot of talks. We did sell our dining room table, though, so that was pretty adventurous of us. Now we’re eating meals off of a small, tiny outdoor set that’s been colored and painted on and doesn’t quite fit the three of us.
These past few days with that crooked little set have been surreal. When I look around our home, everything else is the same. The same large sofa, the same record stand, the same marks on the wall – but here we are, sitting at a comically small table trying not to knock our feet into it while we eat. It’s an awkward in-between, for sure, awkward and tight and not normal. This real life metaphor seems accurate, since our life at the moment also feels awkward and tight and a little not normal. Kind of like sitting in a undersized outdoor table in the middle of our large apartment, our circumstances make me feel as though I’m stuck in a weird middle ground; not yet gone but also not fully here.
I know these next few weeks are going to be a whirlwind. Quickly, we’re moving out of one season and moving into the next. This awkward and tight stage is already on its way out, replacing this loose thread of comfort with more strands of uncertainty. Because I have no idea what these final weeks will look like – and truthfully, I have no idea what these next three months will look like. It’s easy to look at this full picture and get a bit overwhelmed, a bit scared – as much as I’ve tried to control the future, it’s actually arriving and I don’t know what to expect.
Stepping out of my comfort zone is hard. I know I’m not alone in this – who likes leaving behind satisfaction for the unknown? Especially when things were comfortable. I mean, nothing was perfect and I’ve been longing for this change – but now that I’m on the brink of this transition it’s although I’m already anticipating failure. It’s as though I’m expecting hardship and the hard things haven’t come yet.
So, here I am – in the midst of my empty dining room and our tiny little table. Not yet gone, but not fully here. Imagining the bigger picture but hesitant that my vision will miss the mark. Hoping it will be better than the seasons before. Knowing it’ll be just as much work.
Weirdly, this odd, in-between stage is comforting. Scary and overwhelming but also slow and steady. It’s like the comma in a good book, the moment before good news shared, the introduction as a new friend is made. I can worry all about what’s going to happen next, or I can lean back, sigh deep, and enjoy the pause of life changing its route. Because that’s all a new season is – a little bit of a direction change, a little bit of growing pains.
I’m okay, here at my too-small, temporary dining room table. I’m anxious and excited and a bit apprehensive, but I’m okay. Breathing deep and settling in. I’m preparing my heart in this empty room; preparing it for dramatic change. Allowing it to pause.