Changes

The other day I was listening to a commentary on a song about Change. The artist said something that struck me – she came to a point in her life where she realized change is inevitable. That phrase sank into my soul: change is inevitable. Time goes on and eventually everything does in fact change. The artist realized that even if she tried to maintain her current circumstance or hold onto the good that used to be, change would happen anyways. Her control and choices didn’t necessarily bring change, the reality of life on earth is marked by a life of change.

I live under the assumption of personally enacting total control over the changes in my life – which to some extent, I do. But the decisions in my life don’t always dictate the changes that will take place. I am learning not to resist these changes, but to approach them with an attitude of learning.

In this season, I am understanding more deeply who I am and what I was created to do. As my body physically changes, I feel my mind expanding on the concept of what it means to be a woman, a mother, a daughter, and a wife. When I think about the stages and changes I am about to undergo, there is an underlying sense of fear through it all. I don’t know how to give birth or help a newborn sleep or discipline a 2-year-old or manage to maintain my sense of identity and personal passions in it all! While I certainly feel called to be a mom, these fears can leak into my sense of calling and trick my desire into something it is not. I know I want to be a mother; I am just afraid.

My biggest fear at the moment is the impending pain my body will endure to bring a life into the world. However, if there is anything I have learned, it is that a life free of pain is also a life free of transformation. As I reflect on the experiences that have brought the most growth, I stand witness to the times of trial, the moments of suffering, and the seasons of darkness that tested my character and brought me closer to the Lord. Along the Camino, it was the point at which I thought I couldn’t take one more step that God’s glory and grace was revealed. Traversing mountainous paths overlooking hilly plains, it was in the blisters, sun-scorched heat, and dehydration that I remembered my resilience and my strength.

Listening to a podcast today, I am reminded that “we are made to do hard things.” While it is human nature (or Western culture) to numb the suffering, avoid the hardship, and walk away from the hurt – this is exactly where our character is tested and we learn our potency and power. As a woman, I want to embrace this part of the labor process – to work with the pain instead of fight against it. It is so much more than achieving a goal or a gold star of completion; it is a metaphor for the way I want to live. I want to hold each part of my life – the good and the difficult – in balance, knowing that my identity is shaped through each kind of experience. While I can be prone to assigning pain to negative semantics, I realize that pain is actually about perspective. It is not bad, it’s just hard. And if there’s anything I want said and done in my life, I want to know that I didn’t run from that which is hard; rather I entered into it knowing God is with me.

“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you. For I am the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior; I have given Egypt as your ransom, Cush and Seba in your place. Because you are precious in my eyes, and honored, and I love you.” 

Isaiah 43:2-4