Transitions

Transitions

by Emily Sutherland

This time of year, when I see all the back-to-school supplies on sale, it feels strange not to be stocking up. Even though the kids are grown, part of me still feel like turning the corner from this season into the next might feel more comfortable with some fresh pencils and composition notebooks.

The word transition comes with a bit of baggage for me. I would love to be one of those people who takes on each new season of life with the fearlessness of Joan of Arc. But I tend to want something to hang onto, even if it’s just a number two pencil, that makes me feel safe. Maybe I resist transitions because I seemingly met my quota long ago. I was a pastor’s kid and by the time I was 19, I’d lived in seven different towns. Each journey in a moving truck was preceded by a garage sale and a farewell reception, where the adults ugly cried as they exchanged tearful goodbyes.

Mom and Dad had a way of turning each move into an adventure, and I don’t really remember feeling sad about moving at the time. My sister and I became adaptable and got to live life in a variety of places surrounded by lots of kinds of people. But I didn’t develop many long-term friendships. The life cycle on relationships was about three years before it was time to move. So I learned to keep a little distance between myself and others.

When I married Scott, we put down our roots in Indiana so we could keep the farewell receptions and garage sales to a minimum. We hoped living near grandparents and having a hometown where our kids could develop lifelong friendships might protect them from the stress of constant transitions.

But over time, I started to realize that resisting transitions is about as pointless as trying to keep the sun from rising, or the tide from coming in and out. There’s no avoiding them, and there’s certainly no protecting my kids from them.

I used to think my kid’s toddler meltdowns during the transition from playtime to bath time were rough. Now my “baby” has just turned 22 and her brother is 24. Their debut into adulthood has come with heartbreaks, losses, depression, crises of faith, weighty decisions, life-altering disappointments... oh, and a global pandemic. There have been days when all I could do was pray that my kid would survive another day. All I wanted to do was hit “rewind” and go back to the days when they were carefree and unjaded by disappointment in how the world works.

There may have been a time or two when I was the one melting down like a toddler on her way to bath time as I grieved--the loss of my dad, the loss of relationships we had invested heavily in, the turmoil in our nation and too many injustices to process, and the upending of our best-laid plans.

I write people’s stories for a living now, and am doing the job I once only dreamed of, but even the transition from a steady corporate job to my own freelance writing business wasn’t easy. Even though I knew I was ready for a new season, there was something so final about letting go of what I knew before I could see was possible. Now I can’t imagine not going for it, but man was it scary.

While writing others’ stories, I’ve stumbled onto a powerful discovery. The parts of every story where the most page-turning action happens always begins at a crossroad or decision point. Transitions always usher in a new chapter that impacts how the rest of the story plays out. In each story I’ve had the honor of writing, the most unthinkably painful chapters of people’s lives became the very experiences they later said, with gratitude, grew them into people they couldn’t have become otherwise.

The transitions keep coming. My family just faced another big one that felt hard and disappointing. We have allowed whatever emotions we had to come and go as they pleased until the most beautiful wave of relief settled in, signaling once again that we are exactly where we need to be. Transitions always bring gifts.

Transitions not only take us from what was to what will be, they take us from who we were to who we are becoming.

Some seasons are easier to embrace than others, but all of them come with choices. We can fight them every step of the way, to no avail. We can distance ourselves from people thinking it might be easier to ride it out alone rather than risk more disappointment. Or… we can bravely open our eyes, soften our hearts, release our grip, and receive whatever gifts are waiting for us. Because transitions always bring gifts.

Whether we white-knuckle our way through change, or thrive on it, it’s never going to stop coming in and out of our lives. We can never go back to some previous time when things were simpler. And we can’t propel ourselves into the future to skip the painful parts. But we can stay present, feel whatever comes … and listen. Because this moment right here is where the magic happens. Like the John Mayer song, “Stop This Train” so beautifully concludes, "Don't stop this train. Don't for a minute change the place you're in…”

As summer winds down and you begin to feel that familiar shift into cooler days, I hope, dear reader, that you will give yourself the gift of taking each moment as it comes. If you’re walking through pain or grief, feel it…then keep listening. If you’re worried that your best days might be behind you, feel it… then keep hoping. Think of the unknown as an adventure, guided by a Voice that will not steer you wrong. Whatever you’re facing right now might be the thing you’ll eventually look back on with gratitude for the way it shaped you into the person you needed to become. And if buying yourself some school supplies might make this season feel more familiar, this is the time to do it because they’re on the best sale of the year.

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"Whatever you’re facing right now might be the thing you’ll eventually look back on with gratitude for the way it shaped you into the person you needed to become."

– Emily Sutherland