Transitions do something to me, something that I haven't quite figured out. It's like they bring to the surface all of my thoughts, excitements, and fears- past, present, and future. Anxieties about what I've done, what I'm doing, and what I'm about to do. So here I am again, on the cusp of yet another transition, thinking and overthinking and overthinking my overthinking about this life I'm trying to live.
According to one New York Times article, anxiety is the new depression. While I in no way want to allow myself the luxury of wallowing in my first world problems about all the wonderful places I've moved to and new adventures I've embarked upon, I'm certainly experiencing the young adult complex that convinces me I should have it all figured out while simultaneously having no idea what I'm doing.
Should I even be a teacher? Is my degree worth it? Did I learn anything this past year that will have any real consequence when I'm back in the classroom as a teacher? Will my friends remember me after I leave? Is it really worth it to start over in a new city, in a new state all over again? When will I get to slow down? When will I find my groove? When will it feel like I have a grip on life? When will I actually start making a difference in the lives of the kids with whom I work? What next? Why does there always have to be a what next? When will I feel comfortable with who I am? When will I confidently be able to say I even know who that is?
I don't know when I'll have the answers to these questions, if ever. But I'm trying to figure it out. And I'm trying to remind myself that it's okay that I don't have it figure out. Besides, life's not for the figuring out, right? It's for the living.
I'm lucky to have so many people surrounding me, filling me up with their wisdom and holding my hand as I try to navigate life. Just a few out of the many that are keeping me grounded..
A friend in New York that reminds me of my young age and that I'm coming into myself after the delay of years of formalized schooling. Reminding me that what I'm doing, I do because I am a child of God, and if not us, then who?
A mother in Texas that listens to me vent on the phone in the midst of my (usually irrational) woe-is-me moments, gives sage advice and common sense insight, and offers me the sweetest gifts of practical service that are much too generous to even come from family.
An angel of a man by my side that sees me not only for who I am, but also for who I am trying to be. A man that doesn't shy away from my emotions, hide from my panic attacks, but holds my hand tighter still as I say a final goodbye to friends and look at the nighttime Nashville skyline one last time. A man that steadies me, and speaks truth into my heart in the most unlikely of places, with a word, a look, a touch.
A God that is constant when I am anything but. A Father that breathes peace into my being and gives me gifts of truth when I hardly deserve it, but need it the most.
And as I remember these gifts, these graces, my anxieties turn into adventures.
"Not by might nor by power, but by Spirit."