"Kristin, Meet Change."

"Action and reaction, ebb and flow, trial and error, change - this is the rhythm of living. Out of our over-confidence, fear; out of our fear, clearer vision, fresh hope. And out of hope, progress." (Bruce Barton)

Some people love change. I'm not one of them. Oh, I like the idea of change. Won't it be great for Ella to have a brother or sister? Wouldn't it be nice to move back to the city? What if I were to start up my own business from scratch or go back to school- how awesome would that be? The truth is- all of those things are awesome. But my downfall is that I tend to idealize the end result without considering all the steps that have to happen in between. For example, when we started trying for #2, it didn't really occur to me that my second pregnancy would be the emotional roller-coaster that it was, nor that I would be sick for a good two-thirds of it. I just pictured two little cherubs sitting on the floor together, giggling and eating ice cream cones. (For the record, both kids have yet to actually sit on the floor together eating ice cream cones and giggling, but I'll sure as hell take a picture of it for posterity's sake if it happens).

And then there was our plan to move back into the city. That's been about as fun as, well, moving with two small kids is (in other words, I have gray hairs now). I remembered back to when we moved right after we got married- how I sat for hours on our kitchen floor, sipping coffee, gingerly flipping through cookbooks and enjoying the entire process of unpacking my kitchen, taking my time deciding where each knick-knack went. For some bizarre, illogical reason, I pictured myself doing the same thing again this time, then proceeded to scare Jake (and even myself) by my tazmanian devil-like antics as I hurriedly shoved pots, pans and cookie sheets into any available cabinet during naptime one day (still haven't found my butter-dish, but that's another story). Again, I pictured our new house and my mind went in a thousand directions simultaneously about how I wanted to decorate each room. I pinned the crap out of my boards on Pinterest. I pictured Jake and I perusing stores for various statement pieces, artwork, etc. I decided we would go antique-ing and try to have all original, one-of-a-kind pieces. Then I envisioned our backyard and the future garden we would plant so that when Ella and Milo got done giggling and eating their ice cream cones on the floor, they could mosey on outside and pick their own tomatoes and peppers...

What's that, you say? Moving costs money? Oh, right.

What's that? My daughter doesn't even like vegetables? {sigh}


So I sometimes get excited about the thought of change. But I have to admit that these days, that excitement is relegated mostly to getting my hair highlighted or the season's latest trends. In all honesty, there's been quite a bit of change (aside from the aforementioned ones). Here's the quick run-down: I gave birth in February and have since been attempting the transition from one to two kids. Haven't mastered it- probably never will. Jake's responsibilities at his work increased ten-fold soon after Milo was born, adding additional stress on his end. Then, our best friends moved 6 hours away. A month later, we moved out of the house that we were newlyweds/new parents in. My parents also moved back into town after being away for three years. And last, but certainly not least, the faith community we've been a part of that had for so long been a place of stability started transitioning and undergoing some pretty major changes. I had been plugging along, keeping myself busy, noticing that life was actually quite different, but not really accepting it, until one day out of the blue (or perhaps, not so out of the blue) I found myself driving home from a meeting with our faith community, completely broken. All of those changes had finally caught up to me, forcing me to finally acknowledge them. As the tears fell, all I could sputter and sob to Jake was that nothing felt familiar anymore. I felt alone. I was supposed to feel happy, because overall, most of the changes were good. Instead, I felt bewildered. "Life" just looked so different from how I had pictured it in my head not even a year ago.

And that's probably the bigger issue: I get an idea about how something should be, and I think it should be that way mostly because it maintains my sense of comfort. So many times, I pray and ask God to give me the change I want- on my terms- because, silly girl that I am, I think I should be able to call the shots. Then, when change comes knocking on my door, bringing it's two BFF's "awkwardness" and "uncertainty," I act surprised, as if that wasn't part of the game plan.

So yeah, there's been a lot of awkwardness in the last few months. There's been inconvenience. There have been moments when I've gotten my panties in a wad and declared, "I didn't sign up for this!" But the reality is that I can let the change make me or break me, but one thing is certain- it's always around the corner. I may not always welcome it with open arms, but in these last few weeks, I think I've finally began to understand that underneath the awkwardness, uncertainty and discomfort, all changes are capable of narrating a beautiful story- even a redemptive one, if I let them.

So here's to continuing on with the narrative with all of it's moments- the good, the awkward and hopefully, the poignant.