Growing up in Arizona, we had some semblance of seasons but nothing compared to the Midwest. I've now seen all four: summer's sticky glow, the explosion of autumn fireworks, winter's steadfast bite, and the springtime flutter of new.
God has now firmly planted me in this place where I am constantly reminded of the transitions of life. I've been pondering this lately. How the seasons, in their perpetual cycle of change, are still tethered to a rhythm year after year. The Creator's weaving together of consistency and change.
It's the strangest thing to me: I fear the rhythm, and yet I also fear disrupting the rhythm. Daily life can feel dull and constrictive – the repetition of day and night and night and day. Jobs, chores, obligations. Weekdays, weekends. Putting my head on the same pillow each night and waking up on the same pillow each morning. Nothing inherently bad, but at times defeating on repeat.
And yet. And yet, when something threatens my daily rhythm – that rhythm that feels like an slowly growing tightness in my throat – my body instantly sets off alarms. I panic and prickle with fear. My senses throw me into tunnel vision and all I can think about is the Change. The Change becomes this constant companion, this hill that seems to be pulling me downward, this expanding balloon in my mind.
Slow to adapt to change. Jason's answer when asked on a reference form about my weaknesses. Seeing it written out like that gives me no room to hide from the fact. Has it ever been spelled out to me like that before? I think I have known this for a long time, but lately how it has settled in among my bones. Among my muscles and sinews and joints runs this vein of pulsing fear, fueled by the simple, unavoidable turn of life.
Fear that nothing will change, and fear that everything will change.
Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life? And why are you anxious about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? Therefore do not be anxious, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the Gentiles seek after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.
I have a feeling at some level, I will always be a slow adapter to change. Those words will always quicken my pulse and uncomfortably tug at my heart. I'm determined to speed up my adaption process, but today the Spirit is gently reminding me that only by seeking Him will I ever find any true peace.