I’m currently sitting in a dark hotel room in Wagga Wagga. My husband and our children are slumbering peacefully in the beds around me, blissful in that sweetly deep sleep that comes after a long, tiring journey. Having just driven from the northern ‘burbs of Sydney, we are breaking this somewhat brief sojourn before continuing on to a new life, a future not yet entirely clear, in Melbourne.
Yet It has been an extraordinarily long journey over many, many years. The last week of which culminated in a momentous epoch for our family at large. Our bodies were broken, our spirits weak, and many tear has been shed.
So indeed, the sleep is sweet.
It is a ‘dead to the world’ sort of sleep.
The sort of sleep that one awakens from feeling like it’s a whole new world.
Birth, death, rebirth..the cycle continues.
And isn’t that life though? A continual transition? A spiralling dance around the sun? A continual push, onward and upward, around and around and around…..?
I am wont to ponder.
Transition is a funny thing. It invites growth. Encourages it. No, demands it.
And makes you do it all over again, if you don’t get it’s message.
And then it becomes effortless. Fluid.
As far as averages go, I’ve moved between dwellings, once per year since my birth.
I’m thirty seven.
Each brief stay has accounted for a lifetime in itself, gathering as much experience. I’m just a little exhausted.
The youthful tone of my thoughts has long gone. My memory of what it felt like to be a child fading. My body is weary. With each move, with each transition like this, I feel old, seasoned……..ancient. Not wiser. Just ancient. Continually moving throughout this equally ancient land. (oh but how beautiful it is!)
I didn’t consciously choose this lifestyle. I certainly didn’t consciously choose this way of living for my children either. But here we find ourselves.
And we’ve learned, that specific to our situation, our home is simply us. Our family. We are it. But not just the five of us. The loved ones, old and new, that also buoy us along the way. And the God who holds us in His hands. This is our home. And this is our contentment.
I’ve learned to find joy in the little things. Like the joy of delicately rain kissed petals shining brightly in the midst of an otherwise bleak and dreary day. And so perhaps, there is a tiny spark of child-like wonder left in me after all. (Oh, that I give thanks for the opportunities had, the wonders of creation seen, the stories heard!)
But this isn’t just our story. It seems to be a time of transitions for many in our circle, and indeed for the world. I know of many tools that can help us during times of transition – the flower essences, herbs, prayer, a good shoulder to cry on, a good scream or two……
But let’s look deeper than that.
What wonders do you see on your grand journey?