Throughout life we encounter times when our faith and routine are challenged. Whether you are transitioning from high school to college, college to post-college life, or to brand-new parenthood, our faith gives us hope for the future. Three women share their stories about transition. What transitions in your life had the biggest impact on you?

Transition to college
by Laura Johnson

When I graduated from high school, I did not cry. This was surprising because I cry over everything, from the dumbest of chick flicks to absolutely nothing at all. I think everyone else was doing enough crying for me. I was ready to move on.

Fear of the unknown
Stuffing the family car to the ceiling with my belongings, my parents and I drove from Washington state to southern California to my small Christian college. I had decided not to visit the school beforehand, so I was nervous about what to expect.

College is not for everyone. But for those who do make the lofty jump from high school to a four-year university, the transition does not always go as hoped. For the first time you might actually have to discipline yourself to study, feed yourself, and wash your own clothes. The ultimate battle of college however, is finding out who you are—not who your parents want you to be.

Some parents are wary of the college experience. They watched the movie “Animal House” and expect that college to be like that. College is the first time when kids (sorry, young adults) are on their own and--depending on which school you attend--will no longer have a strict set of rules to follow.

Yes, college is about finding yourself. This does not mean you have to chug a keg of beer to do so. It is about figuring out what you want to do when you grow up and finding some life-long friends along the way. The surest way to accomplish this is to never lose sight of God and what God wants for your life.

Did I find myself in college? Yes, for the most part. Here is some of what I learned.

Laura’s freshmen survival guide

1. “This too shall pass.” This phrase is particularly important in the college setting, because even if you’re ridiculously smart, college is hard. You will pull all-nighters or at least attempt to. You will most likely be addicted to caffeine and there will be days you’ll want to give up and go home. Remember that in the long run, nothing is that important. No one will ask you in a job interview what grade you made on your calculus final if you are an English major. Tell yourself that this too will pass. Because it will.

2. Newsflash: Church is not required. No longer will you have to go to church because your mom wants you to. She won’t be there. It will be tempting to catch up on sleep or that big religion class project that you put off, but you have to remember what keeps you most grounded—your faith in Jesus. Even if church is not do-able some weeks, there are Bible study groups and Christian clubs and campus ministries. There is nothing like a good worship service or Bible study to rejuvenate your spirit and put things back into perspective--especially when nothing else in your life seems to make sense.

3. As God loves you, you must love yourself. There are days you will not feel good enough for anything. Maybe you failed a mid-term, picked a fight with your boyfriend or roommate, or did something much worse. You will make mistakes because that is what human beings do. No matter what, no sin is unforgivable for God. Nothing. Don’t be tempted to believe you are not worthy of being loved. By far, this is the most challenging thing you will learn in college——and you won’t find it in any textbook.

When I graduated from college I didn’t cry either. I was just in such shock that I had made it. This time I was not really ready to move on. But move on, I must. This next transition into the real world may be even more of a struggle than from high school to college. Yet, with the help of God, I’ll be Okay. And this too shall pass.

Laura Johnson recently graduated from Pepperdine University with a B.A. in journalism and a minor in music. Her next big transition will be moving into the working world.

Transition to global service
by Kaitlin Nelson

I am a list-maker. My lists are never too extensive, just ideas and reminders that surface in during my day. I write them all down on scraps of paper until I can take the sharp point of a pencil and scratch over each task—done. Once each task is marked off, I am filled with feelings of accomplishment. I’m often struck by how these lists become more than the tasks they contain—they give me broader insight and fresh energy as each new task comes into focus.

Like many 20-somethings, I am in the midst of a life transition. I recently graduated college, have temporarily moved back home with my family, and will soon leave for Mexico to serve as one of 50 ELCA Young Adults in Global Mission (YAGM) volunteers. For one year I will be living with other volunteers in Cuernavaca, Mexico, where I will work with an organization that assists women in community development. Although I will be involved in on-site programs and some office work, I expect to learn a lot by simply walking alongside the women and hearing their stories and hopes for the future.

In preparation for this year of service, I will be creating a giant list so that I can organize the belongings that I brought home from college, pack for an entire year, read through the mountain of required information, and spend time with family and friends.

Soon things will change
As I am immersed in this anticipation and preparation, I am aware of the excitement, wonder, and nervousness that I feel intensely during this time.

I am preoccupied with important deadlines and responsibilities. I admit I am fearful of forgetting some things, not having enough information—and I worry whether I am prepared for this new life that is so different from what I know.

Mountain of stuff
Since I can take very little with me, I am going to have to get rid of stuff. Sorting through items from my apartment at college (that now line the walls of my parents’ basement), I realize that the objects are valuable because of the memories they bring. They are reminders of gifts received from family and friends, quirky purchases, and hand-me-downs. The items that I have to donate will go into one bin, things that will be discarded will go into another, and those that I will save are going into a third container. Even though I will not bring this collection of stuff along, it has been a part of me and discarding it is not easy.

As I wrestle with questions about what it means to be transformed by the new realities I will face, I trust that my faith journey could not be whole without doing this.

My to-do list task: live out faith
My to-do list is more than a set of tasks that need to be completed. In fact, it has little to do with the tasks themselves. It has become a reflection of my intentions for how I want to live into this next stage in my life. It is a reminder of the things that I will leave behind as I grow into my adult-self. I imagine that next year around this time, I will be wondering about who I am as a result of this mission service experience. How will my friendships have grown? How will I have matured in faith?

I am certain that my life will change and be changed in many ways. I am looking forward to the changes that are in store, even as I wonder if I am ready.

Looking ahead, I can trust that this year-long service and learning opportunity will push me to know and act in the world on a deeper level. By living out Christ’s love in this work, I am following the example of those around me who live out their faith in action. While in Mexico, I look forward to learning more about servanthood, living simply, and being in intentional community.

If you too are a list-maker, maybe this resonates with you. In the midst of transition, I find lists to be helpful tools for remembering what is behind me and what is waiting for the future. Glancing at the scribbles on my current to-do list, the faces and voices of those who have helped shape my identity leap out from the wrinkled paper. I’m reminded of the special memories that I carry with me into this next step on my faith journey. With each step into adulthood, the soft scratch of a pencil only blurs the surface of their lasting effect on me.

Kaitlin Nelson worked as an intern for Women of the ELCA this summer and is now serving as an ELCA Young Adult in Global Mission volunteer. She is a recent graduate of Huron College at the University of Western Ontario.

Transition to parenthood
by Amy Grunewald Mattison

Everyone who has ever become a parent moans at the memory of the sleepless nights that marked their transition into parenthood. Whether parenthood happened after hours (or days) of labor and birth or after welcoming a child into their home through adoption, new parents have lived through the watches of the night. This rite of passage jump-starts conversations among parents at the playground sandbox, while their children push around mounds of sand and cast shapes in plastic molds. Even now, four years since we brought our twin boys into the hot steamy world of a North Carolina summer, the scent of a size N diaper or the first notes of our lullaby CD take me back to the pacing, pacifying, and desperate praying that the boys would fall—and stay—asleep.

In it together
But we are less likely to share with the other parents at the sandbox another side of not sleeping. Perhaps it’s impossible to talk deeply in the space between “please share the broken truck with the others, honey” and “let’s not eat the sand” about how during those dark, wide-awake hours, we began to see ourselves less as individuals and more as pieces woven in the fabric of the human family. Maybe it was the helplessness I felt when one (or both) of the boys cried until his face was bursting red. Maybe it was the nagging of Western medicine that says charts and numbers determine the health of your child. Maybe it was just the fatigue.

At some point during the first few nights, I accepted with gratitude that parents are not parents alone. For as much time as I spent tucked into the double nursing pillow with the boys, there were others—grandparents, neighbors, friends, members of our congregation—who made baked chicken and apple pie, who brought diapers, who came rushing over after school to make the babies smile while I got a quick shower. Sometimes I just watched the babies look adoringly at each other as they dabbled in the beginnings of friendship.

My own friendships with other mothers deepened as we figured out together how to survive the dinner time “witching hour” and how to make over the ice-cube trays with frozen carrot cubes. Once while on a walk with a friend, I started sobbing in the middle of an intersection at the thought of another sleepless night ahead. She, a mother of 14 years, knew how temporary and yet how agonizing sleep deprivation can be, and I made it through another night.

Daily surprises
But what surprised me the most were the changes in my daily encounters. A trip to the grocery store meant repeated stops by well-wishers expressing awe at those 20 toes peeking out of the stroller. The friendly hellos I exchanged with the crossing guard throughout my pregnancy became conversations—and a gift of lollipops, though the boys didn’t yet have teeth. The frail woman at the corner shared with me that she raised twin girls, one of whom had died in adulthood. She had smiles for the boys and encouragement for me. The boys opened up a world that had been merely scenery to me. Not that I’ve ever struggled to make small talk, but somehow the connection through a child sparks a kindness between strangers I had not known before.

Perhaps the biggest change in becoming a parent is losing the freedom to be set apart as an individual. Children bring us into the world as much as we bring them into the world. They will not let us dwell in a daydream of how we might like things to go. Their very existence requires us to come with them and explore. What will we see? Who will we meet? What story might we share?

As the boys have grown, the physical stresses of parenthood have diminished. I have more flexibility to go for a run or out with a friend or on a date with their dad. I sleep at night and shower whenever I need to. But I am even more aware of how connected I am to others in the wake of being their mom.

Just recently we moved from the city where they lived through their toddler years to a new town. Within hours we met an eager 4-year-old who wanting to play with the boys. On our first outing downtown they brought a smile to the bus driver as they marveled at the mechanics of the kneeling bus. It hasn’t made leaving our friends any easier, but our children’s engagement with the world reminds us that we are not individuals alone. Now we venture into new friendships and adventures, knowing that we are growing up together into the children God created us to be.

Amy Grunewald Mattison recently moved from Chicago to Madison, Wis., with her husband and twin 4-year-old boys. She is a graduate of St. Olaf College and Duke Divinity School.

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