The Awful "C" Word

All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another. ~Anatole France

Change is not something I handle well. I never have. I probably never will. I can remember a time in first grade when my teacher (whom I adored...up until this point) decided we should switch desks halfway through the year to change things up. Everyone else was all giddy about having a new place to sit, excitedly checking out their new surroundings. Everyone that is, except me. It threw me off...majorly. I resented the girl who had MY desk, and I couldn't concentrate on anything because I felt so out of my element. Thus, this detest toward change started many, many moons ago. And it didn't get any better.

My dad is a pastor and we moved quite frequently while we were growing up. I was born in Ironton, we moved to WV several years later, we moved back to Ironton, then moved to Kentucky just a few years later, then we moved back to Ironton, and eventually to Wheelersburg where my family FINALLY decided to stay put....well kinda. Those moves were hard on everyone, but I think I dealt with it the worst. I can remember feeling like my life was over each and everytime my dad broke the news that we were moving. Now, don't get me wrong....I totally respect the fact that my father followed God's will all those years, even though packing up and moving a family of six (yes, there were four of us kids!) was rather difficult.

There is one time I remember I had an especially tough time dealing with things...after the fourth grade when my dad decided it was time to leave our church in Kentucky, and return to where I was born. Our final project of the schoolyear was to draw a picture of what we would be doing that summer. One by one, my classmates got up in front of the classroom, displaying beautiful pictures of vacations to the ocean (which I didn't even know existed) and mountains (that I'd never seen) and even trips to these huge waterfalls (that I had also never heard of....but I think they were far away...maybe even in another country). They told exciting stories about county fairs, amusement parks, 4-H, and girl scout camp. Everyone seemed to be so anxious for their fun-filled summer. Then.....it was my turn. I got out of my seat and walked to the front of the class, lump in my throat and tears threatening to escape my eyes. My drawing portrayed a much different sentiment than my peers....one of sadness rather than anticipation. I had drawn a picture of my family jam-packed in our woody wagon, all of our belongings strapped to the top of the car, leaving the place that had finally started to feel like home. My parents, sister, and brothers all had smiles on their faces. However, I had drawn myself with ENORMOUS tears falling down my face and the saddest expression my fourth-grade imagination could muster plastered on my stick figure's face. I held my picture up, and the only thing I could get out before bursting into tears was, "This summer my family is moving. And I don't want to." I was heartbroken. My teacher was quick to comfort me, and my friends and I all exchanged addresses and phone numbers vowing to stay in touch FOREVER. However, none of that provided me any comfort. It was change, and I despised it.



My animosity towards change has remained a constant in my life. Trips spent away from my parents throughout school always resulted in a homesickness so intense that I got physically sick. Graduation was gut-wrenching, as well as knowing that some of my best friends were moving away. I got married shortly after graduation, and even that was extremely hard for me. I cried on our honeymoon cruise because I missed my parents and my home, not to mention our German Shepherd Clifford who had just been "dognapped" the night of our wedding rehearsal. When we returned home (to OUR new home) I silently cried at night, missing my old home. The sounds were different, the smells were different, everything was different. In fact, if my husband had obliged, I probably would have just moved him in with me at my parents house after our marriage, although the thought of him sleeping on the trundle that was under my day bed is a little odd. But, that would have avoided alot of....you guessed it...change.



Change is still ever so present in my life. My life has changed since becoming sick. My roles of motherhood have changed since becoming sick. But, change has become something that I have realized I cannot avoid, rather I must accept it, if not embrace it. Life has changed so much this summer and will continue to change in the upcoming fall. Our household has changed quite a bit as Holly (the teenager that has been a part of my family since she was 6 months old) decided to move back home. She had lived with us since last October because of some issues she was having at home. And, even though I know this change was in the best interest for all those involved, it is still change...and it's not something I like. Our little man just turned five and will be starting kindergarten. That's definitely not a day I will be looking forward to. My baby girl is almost three and will be starting preschool in the fall. Life will be change-ing majorly, and I cannot even begin to fathom the changes that will take place over the course of my life, both good and bad. But, one thing that never changes is God's Word and His love, grace, mercy, and faithfulness to His children. There is a line from a song I so dearly love that says, "He will never change. He will remain forever the same." So, as long as God is on my side, change is something I can handle. I don't have to like it, or even pretend to, but I will perservere. Change will not defeat me, because I have the un-change-ing One on my side.

The grass withereth, the flower fadeth, but the word of our God shall stand forever. Isaiah 40:8