I recently returned to my home state of California. It was an unplanned trip. My husband had received a call from the facility where his mom has lived the last few years saying she was quickly approaching the end of her life. This wasn’t unexpected. We just weren’t expecting it now. The next morning we hopped in the car and made the trip to say our final goodbyes.
Driving into California always feels so familiar. Why wouldn’t it? I lived the first 49 years of my life there. Whenever I have returned to California in the past three years, it has always had the feeling of home—a feeling that has eluded me with my new home state of Oregon.
Until this trip.
This time, as we were driving through California, it didn’t feel like my present. It felt decidedly like my past. What surprised me was how OK I felt about this. I wasn’t sad. In fact, this shift was a welcome feeling, like I had finally let go of some part of my past that was keeping me stuck.
Transitions are tough and they’re tricky.
Transitions throw us into that liminal space of neither here nor there. Things are not entirely different nor are they the same. We’re left treading water in a pool of uncertainty for as long as it takes the transition to complete itself.
This is where the struggle lies. Whether we initiated the transition or it was triggered by a significant life event (e.g., the death of a loved one, a serious illness, an empty nest, etc.), our souls know it’s time to move on, and though we may be taking steps in that direction, we find ourselves still holding onto some remnant of the past. Oftentimes we do this unknowingly because we take comfort in and don’t question that which feels familiar.
As we sat with my mother-in-law, the hospice nurse explained to us that people often struggle toward the very end just before they’re about to let go. I believe the same is true of all life’s transitions. The struggle is most difficult toward the end just before we surrender to the next stage of our lives.
I have found this to be true in my own life. My transition moving from California to Oregon has been challenging—much more challenging that I had anticipated with the struggle really intensifying over the last six months. We even began entertaining the idea of moving elsewhere. But the small, still voice inside me said, “Don’t rush. There’s no hurry. Wait and see.” I’m glad I listened.
When I realized that California was no longer my present, something loosened and opened up inside me, and a profound sense of peace came over me. What I know now is that my desire to move elsewhere was fear—a distraction to being fully present where I am now and allowing myself to be changed by whatever is waiting for me on the other side of this transition.
I keep thinking of a trapeze artist who takes off on one bar, believing another bar will meet her midway on her journey to the other side. It is an act of faith to take off in a new direction and believe that what you desire will reach you at the right time. In the course of my own transition, I was clinging so tightly to the fear that I forgot to let go and have faith. Faith in my decision to make this move, which came from a place of inner knowing. Faith in myself that I can do hard things. Faith that what I am moving toward and who I am becoming will be better than that which I am leaving behind.
Here’s the kicker with faith, I’ve learned. Whatever is coming to meet you on this journey may not look like what you were originally reaching for. If you’re not fully present during the transition, you may end up missing the very thing that’s meant for you. Just like the trapeze artist, you need to let go of what’s behind you so you can embrace what’s coming toward you.
Let me ask you: Is there something you are currently holding onto out of fear? How would it feel to let go and have faith that what you desire is on its way to you?