Autumn All Year

We've moved.

Now we live in New Jersey, and everything is different. Everything has changed--address, area codes, grocery store chains, gasoline prices, legal alcohol limits, colleges, insurance prices, those friends who live near us and those friends who live far away. Silly things and profound things, big and small things. On some days it feels like absolutely everything.

I'm sad. I'm sad, and it comes out in different ways, at different times, through different circumstances. This period of mourning is normal, I know; I keep reminding myself. All of the weight of what it meant to leave friends and family and church and community behind couldn't be felt during the moving, or I wouldn't have been able to do it. And now we're in the unpacking phase, which is alternately exceedingly busy and full of random moments of stillness where I feel the pain of great loss. It is also studded by instances of conflict--my husband and I can't seem to buy new furniture or arrange an apartment without arriving at any number of arguments--which bring out more emotion than they ever would under usual circumstances.

I'm tired. Most of my prior moves have been from dorm room to dorm room or graduate school apartment to graduate school apartment. Furniture was minimal, dishes were minimal, things of value and things that were breakable were minimal. This move was--and still is--quite a wearing event. As one of my husband's advisors admitted, "I don't know of any of my own moves that has been wholly joyful." And to be sure--ours didn't feel holy OR joyful.

And yet--I'm excited. We're here for a reason. We have struck out on our own for the very first time, in many ways, to build a life and a future, and to chase some dreams. How many people go their entire lives without chasing a single dream? Even though it hurts, even though I'm sad and I'm tired, these are dreams worth fighting for.

And so here we are.

The title of this new blog is both somber and hopeful. I love the fall--I always have. I love the colors, the crispness in the air, the promise of winter. It's a season of so much promise. School begins, new classes start up, even the television lineup is brand new. However, it's also a season of anticipation in the difficulties to come. Winter is my favorite season, but even I have moments of near-depression come February when the snow still isn't letting up. Still, much virtue is built up by shoveling cars out in the morning, holing up with friends and family to eat hot soup and play board games, and realizing our own limitations when it comes to beating mother nature. Autumn holds great beauty and anticipation, but also a very honest depiction that life can be quite a challenge, and that these challenges are coming fast and soon.

This is what I expect, want even, from my time here at Princeton Seminary. Exciting new ideas to wrestle with, frustration in carving out this new life in this new place, wonderful opportunities each semester, and all the difficulties of growing up, choosing a vocation, and being far, far away from all that is home.

I expect autumn this year, and the next. But we'll see. We'll see.