Cross Over

Only those who will risk going too far will find out how far one can possibly go.                                                                                                            - T.S. Eliot

This week, we will cross over from one life into the next. Everything will be shifted, shaken, and scrambled. I'm grateful that we downsized ourselves before coming south seven years ago. At the same time, this move won't be quite like any other we've experienced. It will be a move in stages: we will drive ten hours north to our destination, and then another four hours north to pick up furniture from storage. The dust will barely settle onto our new floors before I start my doctoral program.

Last week, I read my fall syllabi and ordered  25 essential books. The coursework does not look humanly possible. But that's the least of my concerns at the moment. As much as I would like to start reading, I can't, because I'm still studying for the Greek and Hebrew exams which I will take on Monday and Tuesday. Then, we will move out on Wednesday. We will drive ten hours north on Thursday. We will go get some of our furniture from storage on Friday. After all of this, we will have a weekend to settle ourselves before I'm on campus all day on Tuesday.

As I look ahead, our schedule feels brisk and tight. I try not to worry. I try to sleep as long as I can. In my waking hours, I study, pack boxes, and run errands. Now, I find it very funny that I once thought the homeschooling years would be my most demanding. The pace, volume and intensity of my life seem to be increasing in middle age. I never would have guessed that this particular venture could be part of my story. God is merciful, for he only shows me one chapter at the time.

In the last few years, I have learned a truth which is both practical and encouraging. Wherever I go, the sanctuary of God's presence goes with me. When Jesus promised, "I will never leave you or forsake you . . . I am with you," he meant it. He wasn't talking figuratively. That wonderful stillness and peace, that center of calm, where perspective and strength are infused into my weakness and timidity, that place remains, and I can walk into it anywhere like an empty room, and talk to him and find my bearings again. His sanctuary gives me hope that I will endure, I will be steadfast, and I will be whole at the end.