n. movement, passage, or change from one position, state, stage, subject, concept, etc., to another;
It's not easy this thing called transition. It's that awkward place between here and there, that place of in-between. Of being new before you are old.
It's like the shifting of gears, necessary as you hear the engine whine and then settle into a smooth drive at a higher gear.
Yet it is all needed.
It's a good word for where I am these days. In the in-between, learning to embrace a whole new normal.
Learning right along with my little girl who asks to go home, to just go home; that home is here. Home is where we are. Mummy, Daddy, Kilmo and Khaira.
Home isn't four walls and all of our stuff. Home isn't an address or a place on a map. Home is an intangible sense of belonging, of knowing that these are my people. It's a safe place colored with memories and dreams. We take up residence within a house but that is never our final home. We never get there, that place where we will never move again, never have any transitions again, never go through anything hard again.
That place of perfect.
Perfect wasn't promised us. There's a hope of something more, something beyond whatever four walls we find ourselves living in. The journey of knowing the only Perfect One and letting His ways define our life.
And so here I am. Wanting to learn what is mine to learn from this time, yet shirking from it knowing it may not be easy. Being steady for my girls, reminding them of what home is, and preparing them as I prepare myself for this next big jump.
And, really, there is no other place I would rather be.