Post vacation hangovers have a way of stripping joy from your life. My husband and I recently returned from a week long family trip to Walt Disney World, and reality seemed to slap me in the face the moment I walked in the door. I wanted to savor those sweet moments of serenity, but exhaustion coupled with anxiety, got the best of me.
Change has never been my friend. I am a creature of habit, and I crave security like an addict waiting on his next fix. In the last year my world was turned right side up when I met and married the most wonderful man I’ve ever known. Chris brought positive changes to my life, and he graciously blended into the community where I had established myself as an independent woman. He rarely complained about leaving his beloved job in Austin to work for a bunch of anal-retentive, micro-managing Nazis at his new place of employment.
Partially because he was discontent in his professional life and primarily because I was on the verge of burn-out, I accepted a new teachingposition in an affluent community in North Dallas. The events leading up to this decision seemed to sweep me up in a whirlwind. I literally interviewed and resigned on the same day. It all happened so fast, and now that we are grappling with the nitty-gritty details of selling and buying a new home, I’m beginning to second guess my decision.
Fear is such a powerful emotion.
My youngest sister says that there are only two emotions that govern all of our decisions: fear and love.
Trinitie shared the following quote with me.
"Fear is the energy which contracts, closes down, draws in, runs, hides, hoards, harms. Love is the energy which expands, opens up, sends out, stays, reveals, shares, heals."
Why is it so difficult to choose love over fear? Why do I struggle believing that these good feelings will continue? Why am I terrified of this impending change? And most importantly, why can’t I trust in the process?
Perhaps I can begin by feeling my fears, and then work towards letting go. I’ll invite God into my questions, and perhaps He will slowly help me loosen my grip . . .