Well, it sure is Monday… I somehow managed to drag myself into the office this morning at 8 am, although I really could have done with at least one more hour of sleep. But since I only have one full week in the office before the Leadership Event, there really is no rest for the weary!

And to be honest, I am weary. I spent a fair bit of time packing this weekend and plotting how to sell some of my stuff before I move. Granted, I’m still 27 days away from moving day, but there was something soothing in beginning the transition process in earnest. Since I returned from my honeymoon, I’ve been especially conscious of the fact that I’ve already started my new life, but have put that on hold to finish out the old. It was necessary—I felt honor-bound to finish the Leadership Event next month. But like every decision, it had consequences of its own.

For those of you who have graduated, the summer months provide their own limbo period. I can remember that month in 2003 between my graduation and my move to Louisville. I watched cable TV a fair bit, if I remember correctly. Like my current transition, I also spent a lot of time packing and selling off all the goods I could possibly get rid of. But whenever you’re waiting for something to happen, sitting in that crack between a good past and an unknown future, you’re pulled between a sense of nostalgia and anticipation/trepidation. You may enjoy the gift of time with family and friends, or you may be impatient to push forward as I am. It is a time of uncertainty, a time when life feels a bit out of your control.

Yeah, I know what you’re thinking—“Now Kelsey is going to bust out with some Jesus.” Perhaps on one level, that is my intention. But it always bugs me when I read those devotionals that have this easy, neat, pat answer for all your troubles. “If you look to Jesus in your time of transition, God will provide all you need.” I could say that to you, and it would even be true. When I’m searching for God, though, wandering through the wilderness of my own personal struggles, such overly pious platitudes only trivialize my emotions. They make me feel like I just don’t have enough faith and trust to be a good Christian. Yet is that honestly true? Frankly, I don’t think so. God doesn’t invite us to come along in the journey only if we have a sufficient store of virtue for the trip.

In fact, there is a spiritual teaching moment in times of painful transition, for God doesn’t just automatically “provide” the tools we need when we get to the tough spots. Think about it—would I have ever learned to read in first grade if Mrs. Zediker had simply told me all the words I didn’t know? No. Much to my chagrin, Mrs. Zediker made impatient little Kelsey (some things never change) slowly sound out every word until I learned to read it on my own. I still haven’t figured out whether God actually brings us to the trouble spots, or if (probably the more Calvinist view) our own broken world automatically trips us up. But I do believe firmly that our loving and redeeming God walks with us down the path, using the thorny spots to teach us the stuff we didn’t start the trip with—faith, trust, love, kindness, etc.

And if you’re looking for comfort, at the end of the day this is all I’ve really got: God is here, and God loves you.

“For this slight momentary affliction is preparing us for an eternal weight of glory beyond all measure, because we look not at what can be seen but at what cannot be seen; for what can be seen is temporary, but what cannot be seen is eternal.” --2 Corinthians 4:17-18

Kelsey