So often bloggers portray their lives as one exciting high, riding the sea of change. It can make you wonder if they are just extraordinary individuals who are immune to poor outcomes or if they hide the worries, doubts, and sadness. If you've read any of my writings at all, you might have sensed that change is difficult for me. I long for routine and ritual, familiar faces and old standby places. Buying our first home in Oklahoma City was an intentional move to place roots and force ourselves to stand still. For a period at least.
We made community here, grounding ourselves in a missional city church plant filled with people with open hearts and no agenda. We've met and loved our neighbors, making friends with the people who make up our neighborhood. And the paths that we tread in this community are real, as though we've left visible remnants of our treks to the library and grocery store. Our house has become less of an obligatory "to do" list and is just home, full of imperfections and quirks.
And yet, in many ways we feel the roots becoming too tight, holding us to an old pattern that no longer feels right. Day by day, we've become more aware that we're not pursuing dreams and a lifestyle that reflects our values. We rarely travel even though it has been one of the desires mutually voiced throughout our marriage. We both have dreams, ones that demand daily commitment, but lack regular childcare to do so. We are disconnected from family and nature.
Have you ever struggled to make a huge leap of faith into the unknown? I've moved cross-country two times since my oldest was born; it is not unfamiliar territory. The motives, however, are totally different this time. Some days I am incredibly excited and ready and others feel completely freaked out.
And so there you go, a dose of honesty. For every blog post you read by someone who shows no fear or doesn't write about the insecurities of great change, know that this is simple untrue. We choose what side we show to the world, and I would rather show my fears and dreams together than to hide who I am. I believe that we can be greater than our fear. And it is the decisions that we make, despite the fear, that can have the greatest impact on our life.
In my next post I'll introduce you to my friends and our old neighbors, the Risenhoovers, who moved to Germany last year with their three little ones in tow. Their story is fascinating and inspiring, and I know you'll walk away from it contemplating your own life and dreams.
And so I ask you: what changes are you pursuing that absolutely terrify you?