My friend Mikkin belongs to a local Mothers of Preschoolers—MOPS—group. Last December she invited me to share on the role of holiday traditions can enhance your family. Well let’s just say I was memorable, but not because of my subject matter.
I made an absolute fool of myself during Christmas Carol Charades.
Screaming Away in a Manger!!!!!!!!!!!! was a small window into my competitive side.
So, when Mikkin texted this summer asking if I would return and speak on how parents can help their kids with transitions, I lept at the chance to make a new impression. And since I wrote a book on transitions, maybe they would realize I was not a lunatic song screamer, but a calm rational adult.
My plan worked, at least enough. I got a bit over-excited a couple of times. But can anyone blame me? When I think of what is at stake when it comes to transitions, the amount of transitions woven into normal life, and how with a little bit of intentionality they can equip their children for life . . . I start to think of the generational ripple effect for their kids if they learn to navigate and process transitions, well the voice in my head said, “Sweetie, calm down.”
I did. But transitions are back on my radar.
Saturday Shelly Miller, author of Rhythms of Rest: Finding the Spirit of Sabbath in a Busy World, spoke at an event in Denver.
We had met on line when I first became a blogger, but we are now, “in the flesh” friends. During the event, she had us go outside and spend five minutes writing down what we heard and then five minutes writing down what we heard from God.
I highly recommend you try it. Listening with your ears prepares your soul to listen to God.
Unseasonably cold, I braved sitting outside and sat by bushes that were in the process of changing color.Take a moment and scroll through these pictures. Using the lens of transtions, what do you notice?
Even within ourselves, we will transition at different paces.
One leaf may be mostly green, but then the tip was bright red. Another leaf was green except for one section. Or the leaf that the edge was red. Lessons from leaves.
It’s true isn’t it? When I moved back to the U.S. I found my place at the gym before I found my vocational place. I felt at home cheering for the Broncos long before I felt at home in the church. Even now, parts of me are not the same color. Yet like these leaves, maybe my own beauty is enhanced by allowing the seasons to be what they are. By seeing that one being can hold more than one story. And that God does not write binary stories. This or that. No, his specialty? The messy middle.