Transplanted gal.

"Some of us think holding on makes us strong but sometimes it is letting go." - Hermann Hess

I'm a bit of a control freak. For those of you who know me well, I know what you are thinking. What an understatement! I like to know where I'm going. I enjoy knowing where my things are. I'm comforted by the familiar. I'm energized by routine.

A few years back, all of the nuances that make up who I am kind of went on a flying leap out the nearest window. We moved from a lively, happening suburban neighborhood in DFW to a sleepy, laid-back town in rural Northeast Texas.

In short, I became a transplanted gal.

I believe in seasons of life, and I had no doubt that this was the season for change. It was a time of letting go of what felt familiar, and - instead - dive headfirst into this new direction. I have no regrets.

Little did I know then that this was just the beginning...

"It takes a lot of courage to release the familiar and seemingly secure, to embrace the new. But there is no real security in the adventurous and exciting, for in movement there is life, and in change there is power." - Alan Cohen

Ah, how this quote spoke to me this morning. Preached to me, is more like it.

I - like most women - value security. There's comfort in the familiar, reassurance in the mundane. We know what to expect, and pretty much when to expect it. While this life runs the risk of skating dangerously close to BORING, I have to say that I prefer this ride over the wildly unpredictable roller coaster of the UNKNOWN.

But sometimes the normal - the FAMILIAR - can breed mediocrity and we begin to give less than our very best. When we finally get brave enough to truly face the situation with clarity we can then - and only then - summon the courage to venture into the newer, unfamiliar waters. It is only there that we can meet newer, more mature challenges. And, really, it's the challenges that promote personal growth. And personal growth is what we all need, isn't it? Once in those waters...I agonize.

I might weep. Grieve, even. My spirit and my soul lay claim to my every thought and action. I don't want to make a change. Even so, life is all about change. In no way at all do I want to miss out on what God has for me for fear of the unknown. With hesitancy, I feel myself being drawn to the deep.

I allow the waters to suck me into their uncertain depths.

I may retreat for a while. Retreat from all the noise, all the distractions, all the pulls of the world around me. I might share with no one the conflicting and warring emotions tugging for proprietorship in my soul. I enclose myself in the only place I know will bring healing and hope for my bruised spirit.

And then I pray.

You know the kind of prayers I'm talking about. The ones that seem to claw their way from the innermost parts of your being. The ones where words elude you, fail you, yet you pray on, your spirit interceding for the human being that you are. But it's only in those moments of uncertainty, of brand-spanking newness that you somehow sense that in your trevail you are giving birth to something new.

So I surrender.

Once in the murky, uncertain waters of what I once perceived as scary territory, I discover treasures. Pieces of beauty that I would never have seen otherwise. My eyes adjust to the dimness of the situation and I become quiet. Be still, and know that I am God. Verses from the Bible become my food. Lyrics from songs become a healing balm for my soul. Worship - although often wordless - brings a quenching to my thirst.

After a while, I realize I no longer flail at the water surrounding me. No longer struggle against the lessons these depths are trying to teach me. Acceptance, slow yet persistent, begin to inch their way into my consciousness. And then the AMAZING...

...the healing of soul and spirit comes to me.

I break the surface again, and breathe in great gulps of fresh peace. I'd gone under in a black-and-white world, but now the colors around me bloom with vibrancy and brilliance and techni-color supremacy. The scales are gone from my eyes, the pain gone from my heart, and doubt gone from my spirit.

I am different. Yet the same. I've released the familiar. Yet I'm more comfortable than ever before. I stand still and know. I have moved into the deeper waters. I have security that cannot fail.

The changes have come closer together these past few years, and especially these past few months. I've noticed less pause in my spirit and more excitement in my step. Maybe this means I'm trusting the process more; maybe it means I've gleaned some much needed wisdom finally.

I've started referring to each new phase as "walking it out..."

It's a faith walk.  Always.

I am no closer to knowing my future. And yet my future feels solid.

Some dreams may come true. I may have to bid good-bye to still others. There will no doubt be days that appear cloudy and uncertain. There will be days when the familiar once again blankets me, lulling me into a complacent existence that feels wonderful, but has the potential to stagnate the growth that I crave. And then it will be time for my focus to change again.

All that I am, all that I hope to be, is in HIM.

That's it for me. Nothing else matters. There's comfort in that. It's familiar. Yet it's ever-changing, pulling at me, tugging on my heart's door - begging me to come deeper still.

And so I will. I'm letting go and moving willingly into the deeper waters.

And in that movement I'll know power.

And in that power, I'll know LOVE.
And love brings LIFE.
And LIFE is all we have here so why not embrace it with all we have?