wrestle with transition

The thoughts below are the simple expression, often composed of fragmented sentences, of the struggle to live in a new place: 

This week has been difficult. As I navigate in the location that is now home, my heart has been breaking and I don’t know why. Tears are often on the verge of falling. The desire to cry out and to shut down, daily have a show down. Usually emotions are bottled up and I try to pursue the daily activities of my life. But something is locked up. I don’t know if it’s good or painful. Right now there is much pain. Perhaps emptiness? It’s really difficult to tell.

It began as I walked off the plane in Toronto. In the drive to Kitchener. In the awkward silence of much time spent in traffic. In questions asked and answered. In running errands. Solving problems. Seeing reality. Serving quietly. Sharing intentionally. Observing. Feeling known and yet not quite. Knowing and not fully. Living in community.

Perhaps that’s it. I miss community. Community of the day-to-day. I, a self-proclaimed independent and self-sufficient being, long for community. I miss the conversations that demand more effort than information to simply fill time. Of being able to share space with someone who will ask the difficult questions and call out the struggle they see. To share in joy and pain with. There have been times when the expression of my heart is met with silence. That is okay – nothing wrong. But calls to the longing of wanting to be known.

Yesterday granted relief. Hope. A conversation shared in front of a café in downtown Denver. A new friend. A friend who dared to share the stories of her journey with loneliness and longing for a different place, closer friends, and true community. I listened a lot. She shared much. It was a gift of trust and beauty. The heart’s expression is always beautiful. 

Tonight reminded me that we do not walk this journey alone. As I shared a conversation with a friend that is 1,500 miles away, I was reminded that being alive is walking fully aware. Over 1.5 hours, our conversation brought tears and laughter and moments of silence that were not awkward. Those are treasured minutes. I was convinced yet again that authenticity is worth it. And it is beautiful. Beautiful to not be satisfied with anything less than was is true. It is there I have encountered the Holy. Such peace and goodness can coexist with loneliness. 

Tonight...tonight the heaviness is much lighter. I am grateful. For friends. For a patient and gentle God. For the quiet Voice that continues to call me to trust.