I’ve never done the waiting thing well. When I think back to any major life changes, I’m afraid to say the waiting period right before,
deeply affected me. And the affect was usually an ugly one at that.
To wait: to remain stationary in readiness or expectation.
This is where I find myself today.
A few major changes have been brewing in our household for some time now. We are moving out of state (back down to California), m
y husband is taking on a new role at work and we are expecting our third baby this fall. Even though my husband and I feel at peace with our decision to make such a major move, it doesn’t come without a certain amount of pain, anxiety and grief.
We’ve been juggling my husband’s travel schedule, preparing our home to sell and then having our house on the market. We are arranging the details of getting possessions down South, I am fighting morning sickness, all the while trying to cram in quality family and friend time. We’ve said good-bye to our regular routines: Bible study, girl’s night, preschool, play dates, gymnastics, etc.
And now, due to several circumstances, our move date has been pushed back. For the third time. Bringing about a serious denial of the impending change.
For this reason, I have found myself in a constant tension. Trying to brace myself for the ground to shift beneath my feet. But it hasn’t yet. Not really.
This period of completely stopping our routines was a wonderful luxury at first. Then ever so slowly my expectation, anxiety and attitude began wearing down. Giving into negativity and a “woe is me” mentality.
Maybe it is because I’m pregnant, or maybe it is because of my past experiences, this waiting time reminds me all too much of the pregnancy process. I spent the week leading up to each of my children’s arrivals encompassing the very definitions of impatience, moodiness and negativity. It was bad. I didn’t even want to be around me.
Our waiting to move has worn me down in a very similar way.
Our good-byes have gone on and on, emulating nothing like ripping off the bandaid quickly. Living in our home, as it’s staged and ready for viewing appointments at any time, has acted as a constant reminder that our home will very soon not be ours. Pain and grief.
I know what lies on the other side of change. We’ve done this move before.
It is uncomfortable. Induces growing pains. And truthfully, brings out all of my insecurities of fear, perfectionism and shame. Fears of being alone, not having community and making mistakes. Thinking I need to do the actual move and emotional process perfectly. Thinking I will not be the wife my husband needs, or the mother my kids need.
There is much to grow into and much to be processed in the coming months. Thankfully, I have not stayed in this place of worry and repulsing negativity. This has come through being reminded over and over again: I am not in control, He is. He is the one who holds our times. I share all of this, because waiting is
a part of life. And waiting is hard. Because waiting stretches us.
When did you last experience a stretching time of waiting?
© 2012 Standing on Peace