Sunsets are proof that endings can be just as beautiful as beginnings.
Change, uncertainty, and the promise of new adventures have been the hallmark of my life with William. Do you remember Pa Ingalls from Little House on the Prairie? William is a little bit like him. Knowledgeable in so many different things, driven to create something with the raw Earth around him, a little out of sync with the rest of the modern world, totally in love with and loyal to his family, and in need of big spaces to roam in. I keep thinking of just how much he’s going to love the expanse of the sky and the pastures in our new home.
This is another change in a lifetime of many. I determined a long time ago to love where I am, no matter where I am. And part of that has been learning to make peace with and embrace change. It’s a decision that has served me well. In 25 years of marriage we’ve lived in 5 states, 16 homes, been members of 9 church congregations, attended 4 different colleges, and changed secondary careers 7 times (farming is a constant, no matter what we do to actually pay the bills.) Each move has brought me new friends and I’ve managed to hold onto almost all of the friends I gained in the places we’ve left behind.
I’m excited for our new journey, our new home, and all of the new friendships, learning and meaning it will hold.
But there’s this edge…the sharp one that reminds me that with the change comes a separation into many parts what was once the whole of my life, and those parts are never put back together the same again. The shattered parts are sharp until I smooth them over with the story and meaning I make from all the shards I’ll gather from this time.
With every change I find myself recreating who I am from what is left of the old and what I discover in the new. I’ve learned, after piecing myself together so many times now, that there are certain things the mosaic will always show.
I’m learning that those parts are the “me” that is eternal and unchanging. I’ll still be looking for beauty. I’ll still make time for friends and family. I’ll find the words of poems that I never knew were inside me. I’ll still dream of creating art that stirs the soul and be awed and humbled when it’s my children who create it instead.
I can already see so much of my forever self in this new chapter that’s just beginning, and I’m mourning, just a little bit, all the pieces of myself that I know I’ll be leaving behind me.
Share this:
