And then it hit me and a flood of tears ran down my face. I missed my friends from my old job. I missed that sense of belonging, and of safety. I missed being known, both personally and professionally. I missed the respect I had, and being asked for help and knowing I made a difference. I missed having my talents and strengths used for the benefit of others. Frankly, I missed having my talents and strengths known, period. No wonder I have been so emotionally weary the past few months. Change is just hard, even if it’s good change. And 9 years of relationships isn’t something that is replaced in 4 months.
So I told a friend the other day: If God calls you to it, He will get you through it. It is, admittedly, much easier to believe that for someone else than myself. But perhaps, God allows us to see something so easily for someone else, to show us that it really is just that easy for ourselves as well. And that maybe, just maybe, we are the ones who make our own lives harder than they need to be.
So I sit here, and all I really have is this mustard seed. I know that many of those who know me think I have this huge faith. And by chance I do, but it doesn’t feel that way to me. In fact, sometimes I can’t even find that mustard seed. They are just so small after all. And I take that mustard seed and lay it down at the foot of the cross. Because I’ve exhausted all other options, and am just depleted. Why are we humans so stubborn we have to try everything else in our own power before we yield?
The truth is, one year later, I am still reeling from having my job as an AT (Assistive Technology) Specialist yanked from under me. Even knowing I actually AM happier working more directly with students, I am still reeling. My sense of identity is still shaken to it’s very core. And despite seeing some of what God had, and has for me in all of that, I still want clearer answers, and not just about my career. Because the last two years have taught me my career isn’t all I am.
What does one do when things change so drastically, in so many ways, that one’s old ways of doing things no longer work? When the fears and doubts one has used as a wall are revealed to be a prison, and one finally escapes? It’s dark in a prison, and adjusting to the light takes time. I admit, I’m not a terribly patient person, but this adjustment calls for patience. How does one live in the light after so many years in the dark?
So I take my mustard seed. And I lay it down at the foot of the cross. I never was in control anyway.