When the Grass is Greener on the Other Side

In October of 2016 I sat down to vision cast the next year of my life. I was a few months removed from Mission Year, was starting a new job, living in a new city, and living in an intentional community. The exercise I was using asked you to think of where you'd like to be in 3 months, one year, three years, and your lifetime. As I brainstormed options for each, I found myself listing radical changes when I thought of changes for the next three months. I wanted to completely switch my role at work, dump this and change that--the goals for three months were drastic and reflected my discontent heart in the middle of many transitions.

As I wrote goals to be completed by 2017, I found myself pausing. Intuitively, I knew that there was only one goal I wanted to work towards this year--settling in Akron and being fully present there. Tears streamed down my face, and I knew that this would be the spiritual work of the next year. What does it mean to practice contentment when your heart longs for "elsewhere?"

I recently read a Japanese folk tale called "The Stonecutter." The story speaks of a lowly stonecutter who wishes he was a wealthy merchant so he is transformed into a wealthy merchant. Soon he becomes discontent as a wealthy merchant so he wishes to be something he perceives as more powerful--a prince. Soon he finds himself as discontent and wishing to be something more powerful--the sun. At the end of the folk tale he finds himself as a rock, that which he has perceived as the most powerful. But he soon discovers that a stonecutter has more power than a rock, and finds himself once more where he began.
 
The Lord has been teaching me a lot in the last eight months, and in many ways I've been the Stonecutter--envious, possessive, and discontent. I've been sitting in front of the plot of land I've been gifted and I've been saying to the Gifter "This isn't the land I wanted." I've been staring longingly at another plot of land across the way, convinced that the land across the way will produce "better" fruit. My spirit has been restless and grasping for that which I do not have.

But as the months have passed a slow shift has begun to take place as my spirit has shifted from denial, to anger, to bargaining, and now acceptance. I find myself sitting in front of my plot of Gifted land, my spirit exhausted and weary and raw, but accepting of my reality.

The grass is never greener on the other side, and grief is not a process to be entered lightly. When we chose to enter the pain, transformation is inevitable. But it is always Good.

Intuition tells me that joy will be found in recognizing the gift of the plot in front of me. Intuition tells me that peace will be found in allowing my hands to sink deep within the land and learning its temperature, form, and function. Intuition tells me to lean into the pain of grief and allow my hands to sink deep into earth, for in choosing to say "yes" to one, I say "no" to many, and this is a natural process.

And so I continue to lean into learning how to practice contentment in my here and now in Akron, Ohio. I give myself permission to allow my raw, tear-stained body to rock back and forth in front of the plot of land I've been gifted, hands kneading deeper and deeper into the earth with the practice of faithfulness and contentment.

Through this labor of obedience, my tears will water the land.

And blossoms will rise.