Not Quite Home
So far, I’ve lived in my new apartment for about 2.5 weeks. Of that, I’ve had all of my possessions transplanted to this new location for just over one week. So, one might say that the transition is complete; after all, the “moving” part is over. I’m not sure I would entirely agree with that right now.
You see, at this point, it is true that everything I own has been safely carried from the old to the new and most things are settled into their places. However, to say that the move is complete isn’t quite accurate because, to me, “complete” happens when I move from normal to home. Despite claims to the contrary, I feel like I’m in a place that is normal. During the move, as I slowly emptied one apartment and as I slowly filled another, I felt like I was without a “home.” What was my home was slipping away with each box that was packed. The opposite would seem to be true as each box was unpacked, right?
As I left the old place and turned in the keys, each day in the new began to feel more and more comfortable. It became normal for me to get up at 7:30 (TOO EARLY!!!) and drive the 20mins to work each morning and then drive the 20mins back at the end of the day. It is now normal for me to see the surroundings I do when I wake up in the mornings instead of the familiar setting I was once accustomed to. But I’m not sure that it’s home quite yet. But it will come in time as I settle into the new, as I get a dog, and as I share my home with others.
That’s a lot like how I’d been feeling in the church – particularly over the past couple of years. It was normal for me to be involved at such a level as I had been. It was normal for me to go to church each week – well, maybe a little more abnormal given my work schedule. It was normal to see me at events. And it was normal that I would be seen as a leader with a future within the denomination. But it wasn’t home. Rather than the progression from normal to home that I look forward to with my new apartment, the transition I experienced in the church was from home to normal. (And, eventually, to estranged.)
I now live with a new normal. It is the norm of constant change. It is the norm of having everything up in the air. It’s a bit unsettling. A bit scary even. But it’s also rather exciting. Everything is open. Anything can happen. And I find that intriguing.