The term transitioning has many different meanings in today’s society. But we can all
agree that to transition means to move from one thing to another, in whatever
sense you’d like to apply that to. I feel through words. And this word has been
on my heart and mind over the past few weeks.
The dictionary
defines transition as, movement, passage, or change from one position, state,
stage, subject, concept, etc., to another; change.
For me, transition
is a very apparent and obvious part of my life currently. The definition of transition can apply to
every aspect of my life. It can be stamped in bright red ink on where I’m at
right now. Two months from today, we will be in a different country, a new
city, a new apartment (hopefully!), with new jobs and new furniture and new
positions in life. It’s overwhelming to think of all that at once, which is why
I’ve taken the simple approach of focusing on one word: transition.
But if we’re
defining transition as change, then it can be said ‘transition is a part of life.’
All humans go through change and therefore transition. Your changes might not
be as blatantly obvious as mine, but they are changes nonetheless. And I have
come to discover that it is better to embrace the changes and the little shifts
of life than to hide from them.
Why do we fear
change? The simple answer is because we appreciate comfort. We like what we
know, and we also life to feel in control of our own lives. But we live in a
world full of unknowns, where we cannot control many of the things we are faced
with everyday. We can only control our response to the things given to/thrown
at us.
When we moved to
New Zealand I started collecting sea glass. If you do not know, sea glass is
just shards of glass that have been in the ocean and become softened by the
rubbing of the sand and salt water over a period of time. The glass becomes weathered and develops a frosted or glazed look. I started collecting
it because a friend took me to a beach where we found it in abundance, and it
was pretty. I collected a jar full in just a few hours.
But I think I
appreciate sea glass for more than just it’s simple beauty. In each piece a transition took place, changing it from a piece of a broken glass
bottle, to what it is now. For me, it became a sought after treasure on a beach
full of sand and shells. I wouldn’t go dumpster diving for old Heineken
bottles, so why do I scour the beach looking for bits of sea glass? It’s
because of the change that occurred. The weathering of the glass has turned old trash into what many would consider art, or at the very least, things of beauty.
What if the changes
and shifts in our lives, the gritty sand and the waves tossing us, were not looked
at as things to annoy us, but things to refine us? What if we saw them as the perfect conditions which allow us
to become even more ourselves? Instead of fearing change, what if we feared comfort?
The change is not comfortable. Transition
is often not ideal or easy or even fun.
But I look at all the times God challenged me in the past to take a big
step and transition into something new, and I can only see growth from those
periods. The transition never took me
backwards, only forwards. And I can only ever be thankful for the sand that rubbed me, and the waves that pulled me under. Because the rough edges are slowly being smoothed, and I am becoming who I was created to be.