When someone has been away from writing for a very long time, it seems customary to let people know why.

First, as we do in my family, I need to tell you that nothing’s wrong. There. Now you know.

But that doesn’t mean that nothing is happening, far from it.

In the midst of vacations, kids at home for the summer, starting a new job, new ministry, having kids back to school, one of them in a new school, lunch orders, church ministry, training, all sorts of things, it seems that writing went by the wayside.

But like so many parts of our lives that give us life, sometimes we let those go by the wayside first.

And then, oh then, we get to a place where we feel the need to take a deep breath, sometimes the one before a big sob, sometimes the one before a big sprint. We look around us, holding that breath, and look to the forgotten things that allow us to release the pent up everything,

Today was one of those sorts of days.

A day where all of the good things seem overwhelming.

A day when you take on the hurts of others that you can’t fix.

A day when there are things required of you and you just want to crawl out from and back under.

Often for me those times come in the midst of a new way of being. A new job, as in my case, new routines, new seasons (hello snow).

Once the beginning excitement of that season is over, I enter into a stage of realization. That the way things were isn’t what they are now. That birthdays are celebrated, parents are aging, kids are growing, bodies are shifting, friends are going through life as well, sickness and health intermingle.

But yet, in the midst, there is a recognition of God’s blessing. Of new jobs that feel perfect, old dreams resurrected, people around you flourishing, things that fade grow again.

So why, then, the need for this breath to come out as scream or sigh?

Because sometimes I need to grieve the changes that come along with God’s blessings.

I grieve the leaving behind of simplicity, recognize the resistance to stretch, long for simpler, yet less fulfilling days. It doesn’t make sense and yet it does.

God’s blessings require of us.

Not out of unkindness, never that. But part of God’s blessing to us is that he never leaves us where we are if we are willing to travel the path he lays before us. If we follow him we are called into change and transformation. Called to know new things and new people, called into situations where we will make mistakes as we learn our way. Called to move and shift out of our dormancy.

But leaving that soft nest of ‘good enough’ can feel cold and uncertain. Will there be peace in this new place? Will I recognize who I am when I’m not where I was?

Will I like myself as I change?

But how can we not? Because as God changes us we begin to look more like Jesus.

This Jesus who so loved the world that he gave everything for us.

This Jesus who taught, loved, grieved, made things new, was a resurrection bringer.

This Jesus who we begin to look more and more like is the one who has made our change possible.

This gift of presence in uncertainty as he grasps our hand and draws us forward, or gives us a nudge that sends us stumbling on a new path, never out of his reach.

So yes, there have been things. Good things, fulfilling things, intimidating things. Things that are consuming and at times, make me long for a day when I was more curled up and less flexible.

But I wouldn’t go back. Not for anything.

I wouldn’t change this journey, ask for a reversal of blessing. Because this stretching also works out the spiritual and emotional kinks, undoes knots in my heart that I didn’t know were there.

I see anew that He knows what’s best for me. And what’s best for me isn’t stagnancy. There is more and always will be more as I enter each new season.

Creaking and groaning will absolutely accompany these new ventures. But that’s alright. Creaking and groaning is the precursor to movement, with a little bit of happy resignation thrown in, don’t you think?

So here I go.