Not cozy, but happy

It's 1 a.m.

That's like 7 or 8 p.m. to normal people. It means I got off work an hour ago, and within the next hour, I'll head to bed.

It means I might be watching TV, getting on Facebook, eating, cleaning, doing crunches, checking the bank statement or making pie. Yes, I've done them all during the last year and a half at this currently not absurd time.

And tonight, Wednesday night, is the second-to-last night I'll look at the clock flashing those numbers and not be startled as to why I'm not zzzing in dreamland.

What's on the task list tonight? Cleaning. Filling boxes. And gearing up for the future.


Transitioning
Right now I'm inhabiting a stripped apartment cluttered with boxes - cardboard milk boxes, white printer paper boxes, transparent plastic boxes, shoeboxes. Plastic shopping bags, suitcases, a duffel bag and plastic drawers. All stacked in random areas of the apartment, some half-open, some packed tight, some completely empty. They all have something in common though.

They hold my things. Not my life, but they're all a part of me. Small, but still a part.

Soon, in less than 48 hours, we're all headed north to fill a new role.

I'm not cozy right now, but I'm happy. I'm not excited to leave Amarillo, but I'm excited to enter small-town Nebraska. I don't like that pictures are absent from the walls; plates, silverware and food have been taken from my drawers and cupboards; my couch is sold and gone; and I have to endure deep-cleaning. But I know that what's coming is good...worth all of this once-again uprooting what has settled.

I don't want to leave the people I've met here; the friends I've made; the beautiful landscape; the convenience of the the city. But more than that, I want to make new friends; go back to old ones; be near my family; soak up the country; and especially fill a job position that allows me to reach out to the community.

Hope and joy
Amarillo's right in the middle of a rainstorm as I'm writing this. The sound of the wet splattering against the windows is not comforting. It's actually cold out, about 50 degrees, the wind is driving the cold through, and it's, of course, dark. Not comforting weather. If everything was in place, not being uprooted at this time, it would be cozy, to be indoors with a book and a coffee. But my life's about to be shipped north. I'm not cozy, but I'm still happy.

I used to dread growing pains. But after having gone through so many, as each and every one of us does, I'm learning to not to worry about not being comfortable at that very moment.

I'm definitely learning to give it all up to God. I know without a doubt He takes care of me in all circumstances, as He most certainly has up to this point. I can't see very far into the future, and it's scary not being able to see. But add some trust into the mix, and that gives us hope and joy.

Cleaning for now? Yes. Concentrated on the upcoming move? Yes. But dreading the transition? Absolutely not.