I've dealt with a lot of change throughout my life. And although I have learned to be pretty flexible and adaptable, I've always struggled with finality. I have to take time to process things. And I process them deeply.
Whether it's saying goodbye to a person or a place or a job or a season of life, I can't simply walk away with ease. Finality always brings with it a heaviness on my heart. Knowing something will be forever changed or different weighs strongly on me.
It could be the knowledge of never seeing a person again this side of eternity, spending a final night in a certain place, the last day of a job, or anything that marks the end of one season and the beginning of another. It could be joyous or painful, good or just plain necessary, but whatever the case is, I have learned that I need to take time to think through it all. I have to spend time reflecting and spend time looking ahead. My mind and my heart need to somehow deal with endings and beginnings. There's not a certain way I do that. Sometimes it means just having a good cry; sometimes it means journaling all the emotions; sometimes it means talking it through with Spencer. And every time it means praying for the Lord's grace to sustain through the transitions and peace to overwhelm the change.
So as we fall asleep on the due date of our second daughter, Claire, I think back to two nights before we were induced with Katherine. It was our last night of just the two of us in our home, and I wept. I mourned the end of a season. And as we prepare for Claire's arrival any day now, I've found myself back in that state of dwelling on the end of our little family as we've known it. There's no going back to the way things were. And although Claire has already been part of our family since the Lord started forming her in me many months ago, there is still a massive change that will happen when she is born.
Yesterday we took a few pictures of our little family. And somehow, having a picture of our family right now is helping me process this finality of being a family of three. I'm grateful for little gifts of peace and comfort from the Lord during times of transition and change.
And I've learned that it is okay to mourn a season, even if the one to come is filled with joy and gladness. It is okay to mourn a season, even if the next one is a gift from the Lord. It is okay and it is good, because there is a time and season for everything. And the time I spend reflecting always creates gratitude in me for what the Lord has done and provided, and it always reminds me of His great faithfulness, steadfast love, rich mercies, and incredible goodness.
So as one season ends and another begins, I pray that this finality brings me closer to Jesus. I pray it helps me trust Him more. And I pray it creates a deeper and more desperate longing for Him.
Sarah loves Jesus and her family and is passionate about addressing the urgent spiritual and physical needs around the world. She is the wife of Spencer and mama of Katherine and Claire, and they live in Nashville, TN. She runs a photography business with her husband and writes in order to offer encouragement and invite others to choose grace, joy, and gratitude in the adventure and the mundane. She loves traveling and reading; she will choose unsweet tea over sweet and bootcut jeans over skinny; and she is all sorts of awkward with small talk but thrives with deep conversations.