A Taste of Transition

Transition feels like floating.

Like a balloon that was released from a child’s hand, now floating aimlessly in the sky.

I am that balloon—seeking a place to land, waiting for the dust to settle.

Calm, peaceful, still, waiting.

Serene.

Transition feels like your face being forced underwater until the release allows you to gasp in air.

Repeatedly,

Each submersion shorter than the last until you are finally able to swim surely in waters of acceptance.

Grief and change go hand in hand.

Chaotic, frenzied, frustrating, angry.

Grieving.

Transition feels like a nomadic lifestyle.

Going, going, environments shifting.

The freedom of new beginnings. 

Change, uncertainty, liberation.

Fresh.

To me, transition does not feel safe.

Transition is shocking.

Unsettling, even.

But in transition there is beauty.

***

I am like a tree with Roots.

The dirt is my environment.

I will dance in the midst of the Transition.

The uprooting.

***

Take me, transplant me where You will.

I will stay there until You say “Go.”

But please.

Please.

“Please.”

I whisper, desperate tears.

“Hold me steady in the Transition, Abba.”

"...I'm scared."