I have relaxed into the acceptance of the fact that my rapidly approaching new life will bring a myriad of new blessings, some disguised as challenges. If I step back at gaze at the enormity of the new life, I feel as though I am on the deck of the starship Enterprise (yes, I’m that geeky) looking at an unexplored planet: If I consider the enormity of the task, it is overwhelming. However, if I focus on one tiny step, then another, and then another, it is exciting. I’m in that in-between stage of parting from the presence of the people who have filled my life. I find myself with questions that cannot be answered.
- Why is it that we do not know how many people love us until it is time to leave? Did I push away the friendship in some way, or did they not realize that they loved me until it was time for me to go?
- Will my husband and children find fulfilling experiences in our new home?
- How do I say goodbye to people that I may never meet again in this life?
- Why have certain people in my life started to shun me? Is it that they never really loved me or that they are protecting themselves from the pain of separation?
- How do I dance jubilantly about the fact that my family finally has our own place to live once again without hurting the people whose sorrow is palpable?
I do have confidence in other questions, though:
- Is this the right choice? Undeniably, yes. The doors have been swinging open and the path has been cleared each step of the way. I cannot find any other explanation than this is where we are meant to be.
- Can I handle the professional challenges that have already begun? Again, yes, but this is more of a one step at a time part of my growth. I have been filling my mind with ideas I never considered before, like the needs of students with autism, schizophrenia, and dyslexia. I find myself feeling at home as I read the writings of Temple Grandin and seeing ways that I could expand my research to expand understanding in the field.
The only answer I have to any of the unanswerable is to take one step, and then another. I can’t solve other people’s hurts for them, and the time until the move grows shorter with each passing moment. Before I know it, my husband and I will be driving to our new home, and the move itself will become a memory shortly thereafter. I’m starting to understand how precious every moment is in this life and regretting the moments I have wasted in some way.
As far as the unanswerable questions, I keep remembering a line from C.S. Lewis’s The Horse and His Boy, a book in the Chronicles of Narnia, in which Aslan comments that another person’s story is not for us to know. We can only answer our own questions and experience our own stories. It is not mine to know why other people’s behavior is changing is response to the future that God has obviously ordained for me and my family. My primary task is to accept the life that God has laid out for me and to live it joyously.