I know that life moves in seasons. Not just the winter, spring, summer, and fall that Carole King sings about, but the seasons of life. The beginnings and endings; the separations and the reunions; the marriage-ing and baby-ing; the career choices and the home choices and the build-a-life choices.

I’ve always been comfortable in a season. My Enneagram number has something to do with this disposition. I consider myself a 5 within the Enneagram model. We like information, solid ground to walk on, and to know what’s coming. We don’t like interruptions, surprises that bring obligation, or crying in front of people.

But I do live comfortably in whatever season I’m in. I soak it up, I live it up, I live it out loud. I take a million pictures, I keep it interesting and I keep it moving.

Then all of a sudden it changes.

The temperature drops or rises and all of a sudden my running gear has to change. My daughter’s food taste changes. My husband’s work schedule changes. An Army school slot becomes available, making me a temporary single parent again. The series I’ve been re-watching over and over on Netflix suddenly expires. 

I’m so uncomfortable in that middle, in that act of changing. I want to be there already. It’s kind of like going on vacation. I want to jump from my front door to the hotel, post haste. I know we’re supposed to enjoy the journey and everything, but … I’m good, God, just get me there.

Inner turmoil abounds in this space. I tend to add ice cream to my nightly cookies to deal with it, though I’m sure that’s not a healthy default. I get a little cranky. I just want the change to be through-with already.

And even though this happens on the regular, I am surprised every time. Which means God has a chance to work on me. 

Every. 
Single. 
Time.

Sound familiar?

John 15 tells me that this pruning will be a regular occurrence for a life with Christ. In the same set of verses, so in the same breath, Jesus tells me to remain in him. 

Which tells me that while I’m eating my chocolate chip cookies, I should also be resting in Jesus. Walking on the safe ground he is for me. Resting in his promise of sameness, which is balm to my nervous soul when things are trying to change on me.

One of my favorite things about loving God is when I know he’s working overtime for me, and a period of uncomfortable change is usually when I notice it. I cry out in my soul, “I could really use this!” and he arrives ten-fold for me.

Like the time when the daylight hours were changing and I gave myself a mild concussion by running into a handicap parking sign and prayed for an ice-pack and some company, my friend Kendal brought both--even though she had no idea what I was going through that day.

Or when Wednesday’s forecast called for rain and clouds but Tuesday night I asked for it to be sunny because it was the beginning of spring and I really needed that sunshine. To my dad and brother I declared boldly--probably a little too arrogantly because I was 20--that God could do whatever he wanted and if he wanted it sunny, it would be sunny. Well, Wednesday came and it was sunny.

When things are trying to change and my soul is uncomfortable, I rest in the sameness of God. In the dependable creator of the universe who promises that life will hurt but he is the healer. I rest in the fact that God wrote my tomorrow before I even woke up today, so if something’s changing it’s on purpose. If it’s on purpose, I can walk confidently that it’s for me, because I know that no matter what, God is for me.

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