Making Space for Bends in the Road

farewells and hellos in a job transition

I love walking on roads like this.  They are peaceful. Soothing. I hear the soft sand crunching under my feet and the sounds of buzzing insects and singing birds filling the fields and sky all around me. My favorite spots are when the canopy of trees on both sides of the road covers me and I am nestled in their safety.  My body feels reenergized and reconnected to its origins—creation. We all need quiet, country roads like this to take us home.

Yet sometimes I’m walking on a road that is strange.  Unfamiliar.  I may be feeling a bit lost and unsure where it leads or where I’m going, or if I’ll be able to find my way back.  There are bends and turns in the road that prevent me from seeing what’s ahead.  Those curves are frustrating because I can’t tell where it’s leading or what is waiting ahead.  My feet might be getting tired, and I don’t know how much stamina I have.  I want to turn back to what is familiar but must keep going.  I have to trust that God is present, God is with me.

Metaphorically, I’m on one of those roads.  I am walking along and can’t quite see what’s around the bend.  I am in the midst of a job transition.  I am Making Space for so much—for letting go of relationships, routines, ministries, and places I care about. It’s hard work.  Heavy, emotional work.  To bid farewell to good people, to files and books, to ways of doing things, and to the caring ministries I have heavily invested myself in the past six years. I have been saying farewell and packing, sorting, and cleaning this past month. It has not been without tears.  A wise parishioner in this faith community looked at me with love and said I must grieve well to say hello well.

My former office, all cleaned out

I know in my heart of hearts that my next position, the new community I have said yes to ministering in, will be filled with goodness and gifts, laughter and surprises. Its mission is to love, to serve, to be hope. I’ve felt all that when I am there.  I know the pastor, staff, and community fairly well; it’s my home parish where my family belongs. I feel good and peaceful about my acceptance of the new ministry position.  I feel blessed to have been offered it.

And yet.

And yet there is still that bend in the road, that curve I can’t see around. I don’t quite know what is waiting ahead.  I know what I’m leaving of course—the things I could do with ease, the things that were mundane or cumbersome, the things that irritated me and the things that gave me joy.  The many relationships I had built made ministering there easy.  These were all known factors.

But what I am beginning this week is wide open.  I will have a lot of people in the community to get to know—their names, faces and life stories. I will need to learn a new staff workplace culture—how much do we visit? How vulnerable are we? How do staff meetings go? What are the unspoken practices, the do’s and don’ts I will observe?  I will need to learn how to access the database, send large group emails, make schedules, and create packets of information for families. Most immediately, I will need to know what to do with my cardboard boxes if ever I get them unpacked.  There will be a learning curve, both large and small. I will need to be patient with myself and offer myself grace as I learn and take in new ways of doing things.

In short, I need to look at that bend in the road—where I can’t quite see what is waiting ahead—and trust that God is present.

Ready to say hello, to start ministering anew

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