Words haven’t been coming easily recently. Tears have… but not words.

As transitions go, this one is probably fairly normal. Moving away from things that are comforting and familiar and well loved like an old favorite t-shirt, and moving into a place where nothing is familiar and everything is new.

This is probably how everyone feels in a moment like this- but nobody ever said that it feels good.

I just moved across the country. Not just a little bit across the country, but all the way.

I started a new job and have a new apartment.

I’m not a visitor here… but a resident.

I will soon be trading in my Colorado plates and drivers license for ones decorated with the Georgia peach. – It’s something that doesn’t actually mean much, but its significance seems to reach as far as my eyes can see.

I’ve slipped back and forth between excitement and feeling like all of my prayers have been answered, and feeling like I’d much rather trade all of that in for a pair of well-worn pajamas and a room at my parents house.

I miss my friends. Not just a little bit, but deeply, in a place that has no words but only ache and tears.

I miss my family in a way that shocks me… not believing that I could actually live away from them for any significant period of time. (A strange reaction considering I just returned from an 11-month absence.)

Some moments it feels like I’m climbing up a mountain to heights that I only dreamed of and sometimes it feels like the bottom of my world has dropped out and I’m trying to grasp for anything stable and true.

God has felt very far away these last few weeks. I don’t think it helped much that I filled 100% of my time with errands and last precious minutes squeezed in with the people I love so much. Not one single moment to myself left me without time to process, left me without time to pray and left me without time to realize that I wasn’t making this scary leap alone.

Just like walking through a tunnel and seeing the faint hint of a light ahead, I know that the unfamiliarity of this season will be short and over before I know it. I also know that joy is fresh and fragrant and available in the midst of so many tears and so much uncertainty.

And I know that it’s precisely when it feels like the bottom has completely dropped out, that Jesus gets to refine us, change us and reveal himself to us the most.

And that’s good. But it’s still hard.

Today, I was given this piece of scripture no less than five times from completely different people.

“Remain in me and I will remain in you.”

~ John 15:4

I haven’t been doing a very good job of remaining in Him recently, and so I know that more than anything right now, that’s what I need to be doing. Remaining in Him- abiding in Him- resting in Him.

This morning when I woke up, I had the best quiet time I’ve had in weeks.

I read the 23^rd psalm and was blown away by what it said.

My encouragement for you today is the same I have for myself. Read the 23^rd Psalm and spend some time sitting with it. Rewrite it in your own words. Notice the promises that God makes to us… the things He tells us He will do for us and with us. They’re pretty incredible, and in a moment when nothing felt secure, that gave me exactly the life raft I needed for today.

I pray today for courage. I pray that we can step out and allow him to catch us. I pray that we can lean on His strength today and allow His power to be made perfect in our weakness. I pray that the God of all comfort would be our comforter- every day- but specifically in this moment.

And I pray that because of all of that, we can be bold and courageous and fearless- knowing that we’re not ever, ever alone.