Owning my own home turned out to be something I cared about more. What was preventing me from buying a home? I could afford one. Primarily I was stalled by my own sense that I wasn’t a grown-up yet. So I saved my money, steeled my courage, and finally bought a condominium. I bought grown-up furniture and real dishes, and finally got rid of the orange crates I’d been using for bookshelves. Living in my own space with things around me that I’d chosen felt absolutely marvelous. I looked back and wondered why I’d spent so many years putting my life on hold, as if marriage was the only legitimate marker of being a grown-up.

I made lots of other changes as a result of that crisis. But the most important one was that after an absence of many years I re-joined the church and started nurturing my spiritual life. The church I joined held a class that taught me a wide variety of contemplative prayer practices, and I learned about becoming quiet and listening intentionally for God’s voice and guidance in my life. It was in that course that I began to understand the nature of the transition I’d been living through. I had unconsciously set myself an ambitious agenda based on cultural norms as I understood them, an agenda that had very little to do with God’s call to me. Midway through the course I woke up in the wee hours of the morning and sat bolt upright in bed, realizing for the first time in my life that God loved me exactly as I was. The agenda I’d set for myself — like the New Year’s resolutions we make every year — had little to do with God, much less my own hopes and dreams.

The time I spent struggling with the expectations I’d set for myself was difficult. Had I known the stories then, I would have compared my time to that of the Israelites out in the desert after leaving Egypt and before getting to the land God promised them. The tale of their journey is a good one for any of us in transitions; both their pitfalls and their successes make for good story and are instructive. The Israelites struggled so hard out there in the desert, trying to find a way to stop being slaves and learn to be more fully the people of God.

That’s the struggle for most of us in times of transition. Letting go of the reins, dropping our vested interest in the agenda we’ve set or let others set, and listening for what God truly calls us to be and do — that’s the challenge. There’s not one way of doing this; most of us have to figure out what will help us let go. Perhaps the only constant is that learning to let go and listen is easier to do in community than it is by ourselves. For me, it was the support and encouragement of others in the class on contemplative prayer that helped me hear more clearly. For you, it might be a conversation with a friend in the dog park while your pooches run around.

 Top      Next page        Forward this article to a friend