This was it. I was really leaving.
As I shut the door to my now empty apartment, looking around one final time, I couldn’t help but feel I was shutting the door to one season of my life, without knowing what the next one would be.
When I graduated college, full of dreams and passions and plans, I never thought I’d be 25 and unemployed.
But after spending three years writing and editing at a small arts and crafts magazine, I was packing up to head back to my hometown. The magazine that had sparked in me a love of art was shutting down, due to the economy.
And I no longer had a job.
So, on that hot July afternoon, with a car packed so full I could barely see out the rearview window, I set out for the four-hour drive back home.
While I knew the drive by heart, I felt a little lost — directionless — and as I drove, I let the tears freely fall.
What was next?
Where would I go from here?
When would God show up to bring new opportunities and dreams for me to follow?
Would He even show up at all?
For the time being, I was moving in my grandmother who had recently gotten out of the hospital. My family and I agreed that my moving in would help her adjust to being at home again.
I put most of my belongings in storage and moved into the family room of the old, quirky house that my grandfather built. It was cramped, but cozy, and perhaps the best part of my little space was the sliding glass door that opened to a tiny patio and swing. I spent many mornings and evenings sitting on that swing, holding my Bible and my journal, praying, dreaming, hoping — and sometimes pleading — for God to do something new.
There were certainly plenty of moments of despair and discouragement during those uncertain months of waiting. But each of those moments placed within me a deeper need for Jesus and a deeper reliance on God and His plan for my life.
I could apply for job after job — and I did — but what it really came down to was trust — trust that He would provide, despite the economy. Trust that He would lead me exactly where I was meant to go. And even trust that I was exactly where I was meant to be in those very moments of waiting and wondering.
That season built in me a bigger capacity to appreciate the work God was doing — even when I couldn’t see it right away. I was learning to hold things with open hands and to recognize that God is always renewing and redeeming — even in our losses and disappointments.
It’s hard to endure endings — but without them, there aren’t new beginnings.
That season of my life had to come to a close, so God could bring me to a new one.
Had I not moved home, I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to love and serve my grandmother at a time she needed it most. Had I not moved home, I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to explore new career paths. Had I not moved home, I wouldn’t be where I am today, writing and editing for a new company, living in a city that God’s given me such so much heart and passion for.
I’m learning that endings are a part of life, that change is inevitable.
And while that kind of knowledge is bittersweet, it is also impossibly hopeful.
One of favorite quotes from Margaret Drabble says: “When nothing is sure, anything is possible.” And like so much in life, it comes down to our perspective. We can choose to live from a place of hope, or from a place of fear. And while it might take a little bit of grit and grace, every time we choose possibility and hope, over fear and defeat, we open ourselves up to the work of God in a powerful way.
Because when nothing is sure, we can be sure that God is up to something. And when God brings about an ending, we can be sure that in His perfect time, He’ll bring about a new beginning.
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{ Editor’s note: This was written for one of my freelance gigs, but didn’t end up getting picked up. It’s something I really needed to read this week, so I thought I would share it with you, too. Just in case you also needed a reminder. }
a place to dwell 