transition Archives - Page 2 of 7

5 Things to Do When Life Is Good

Post author:Gina B
Post published:February 8, 2018
Post category:expectations gratitude rest transition

Five Things to Do When Life Is Good — Photo by Brigitte Tohm on Unsplash

Recently, my husband and I tried to arrange a night out with some good friends. He suggested staying in, and I replied, “Oh, you know how he is-he’ll want to go out instead.” And it hit me: I love that I know this person. He’s someone I did not know prior to life in Orlando. I love that God has given us not just new, but dear, dear friends.

Life feels good right now. Our cups are full. That’s more precious after the rough transition we had to Orlando. We have history here, good history. It is a season of joy, a time to revel in the rich harvest of this place God has given us.

So the natural question becomes: how can we make the most of this?

Because life doesn’t stay put for long. God keeps leading us to new seasons, and some of them are tough. Here’s what God has been encouraging me to do in this time:

5 things to do when life is good

Rest

Transition takes a toll. Chances are, it took some climbing to get to this spot. God gives us times when our souls can rest. Take a deep breath and look around. Get to know this new landscape God created. Don’t spend energy looking back at what you left, and don’t waste it trying to prepare for what might be ahead. Just be all here.
Give thanks

The practice of gratitude is so essential to navigating transition well. When it’s over, it’s tempting to forget where all this goodness comes from. Thank God for bringing you to this place and for every little blessing that you see. Celebrate the heck out of it! The other day I made a list of things I’m grateful for, and I felt God’s absolute pleasure in giving them to me. It’s His joy to bring us to wide open spaces. Realize that fact and respond.
Remember others

It wasn’t long ago that we were the new people, the ones without community or roots. Those people are all around us, hungry for connection. We could be the one to meet their needs. Remember what it felt like to not be in this place, and ask God to lead you to grab others by the hand and walk well with them. We can give them the strength we feel right now.
Bear witness

When you’re in the storm of transition, it’s hard to remember that there are places of abundance, solid ground to stand on. Scripture says a good word from a distant land brings hope. We can be that good word to others. Sometimes we’re discouraged from sharing about being in places of blessing when others are struggling. But bearing witness is about giving credit to God, and reminding all of us of His goodness.
Let it fuel the future

Life changes constantly, and what carries us through is remembering that God is our anchor. Like I said in my New Year’s post, we look back so we can look forward. Like the Israelites passing over the Jordan, mark this place so that in the future storms that come, you remember His faithfulness. You will expect Him to bring you back to places like this.

When life is good, and our cups are full, we let them overflow.

Overflow with gratitude to the Giver of all good things. Spill the joy you feel into the lives of those around you. Satisfy the thirsty souls who are struggling. Fill your own soul for the journeys to come.

Are you in transition right now? Here’s a podcast I did on transitioning well, including a summary of 10 practices that help us navigate transition wholeheartedly.

What to Do When Gratitude Is Hard

Plan to Stay

Having Hope in a New Season

Finding Home – Guest Post at The Mudroom

Post author:Gina B
Post published:July 7, 2017
Post category:home personal transition

Finding Home — Photo by Scott Webb on Unsplash

In October of this year, our family will celebrate the fact that this home is the place where we have lived the longest together. The bar is low: our record is only four years and ten months in one location.

My husband and I started our life together in a tiny basement apartment near downtown Minneapolis. We then spent thirteen years in Asia: six homes in two countries. When we moved back to the U.S., we lived another three months with family before settling here. The idea of having a permanent, long term place is foreign to us.

But in place of permanence, my view of home has expanded.

I’m happy to be guest posting again at The Mudroom today! Hop on over there to read how I experience home now.

Stand at the Crossroads

Post author:Gina B
Post published:January 16, 2017
Post category:rest transition truth

It would never have been in my plans to make an international move pregnant, but that is exactly what I did in the fall of ‘99. When I was thrown into the newness of being a first time mama six months later, I was still wrestling to grasp a language as different from English as possible, learning how to lead a ministry alongside my husband, and finding my place in a new culture.

I was swimming in transition.

My love for our host country, coupled with a deep need for external validation, drove me through the spring to squeeze life out of every hour: studying the language while our son napped, taking him with me to meet students, our team passing him around as we met and planned. I once nursed him with one arm while wiping a poop explosion off the wall with baby wipes so I could finish in time to meet a student for discipleship.

I wanted to do it all. Six months later, I was overwhelmed.

To read the rest of the story, and how God used this verse from Jeremiah to minister to me, go to my guest post at (in)courage here: Stand at the Crossroads

Having Hope in a New Season

Post author:Gina B
Post published:September 8, 2016
Post category:expectations hope transition

It’s September. The pumpkin spice lattes are back, and the Halloween candy is out, which is how I know it’s autumn (Orlando weather doesn’t really give me any clues). Can I just point out that if you’re buying Halloween candy now, you’re either a great planner AND highly disciplined, or let’s face it-it’s never going to last until October 31. Just sayin’.

It’s exciting to see the fall décor, the warm colors of sweaters and pants hanging on the racks, the everything scented cinnamon. Bring on the new season.

New seasons bring exciting new possibilities, but they also bring the unknown. They bring “I’m not sure how to do this” and “what will happen?” and most of, “will this be good?”

It’s been several years now since we moved back to the U.S. from 13 years overseas. We returned to many familiars, but also so many unknowns. Overseas, we were deeply known, deeply rooted, deeply seen. Here, we had yet to see how God would provide in similar ways.

Now, I scroll through my text messages and I see name after name of people I did not know then. I have my favorite places, my favorite things (the library delivers, friends. To. My. House).

I, who dread meet and greets, linger after church because there are so many people I love and want to see. Our roots are not as deep as they were in the last season, but they are sinking. We are claiming ground here.

And He saw it all before it ever came to be.

A year or so into our time in Singapore years ago, God gave me this same kind of awareness. I imagined having this kind of conversation with Him when I was hesitant to leave our home and move there,

“Oh but Gina, you’re going to meet Wendy, and Krisi, and Fiona, and so many others. You’re going to have great memories with your kids at the wobbly train park and the zoo and the children’s library. They’re going to talk for years about the Nutella waffles you get at the market. It’s going to be so good!”

Friend, maybe you are in a new season that looms much larger than new latte flavors and décor.

Maybe it’s a new location, a new stage of life, a new role. You can’t see much through the fog right now. You’re wondering if it’s going to be good, if you’ll be known, if you’ll find your place. Remember this:

Every season that is unknown to you is known to God.

God’s got good in store for you. He has people for you. He has prepared moments of laughter and joy. There will be valleys and mountains of growth. Just like I told my kids when we first moved here, “You might just meet your new best friend.”

You might be entering a season of amazing blessing, or it might be your greatest place of transformation. Either way, He knows it. He’s got you.

Each year back, we celebrate another season of life here. We pile the Ebenezer stones and claim the goodness of God in this season He’s given us. We look back and see all that He knew He was going to give us here.

It’s a new season. There’s good to come. He goes ahead, preparing it for you.

“I know what I’m doing. I have it all planned out—plans to take care of you, not abandon you, plans to give you the future you hope for.” –Jeremiah 29:11 The Message

Rejoicing in New Life

Post author:Gina B
Post published:February 28, 2015
Post category:gratitude transition

This week I fed our kids brown, free range eggs I bought from a neighbor, the first batch of regular eggs we plan to buy from her. Nothing wildly amazing about that on the surface (except oh sweet mama are they good!) but to me it is a victory. Why? Because it is one more small way I feel like I can see a good future here.

I have never witnessed the aftermath of a major storm, but I imagine that the first focus must be pragmatic – get the electricity running, the houses back together, the cracks filled. Do the things that must be done for life to function. What often cannot be rushed is for it to feel normal again, and for life to return. I’m talking about the animals rebuilding nests and the foliage coming back. It take time for a place to feel life-giving again.

Lately, I feel like I can look around and see the buds appearing. I see places where I can see a future. Our son started a new sport at school that he hopes to do all four years until he graduates. He came home from the first practice and said, “Mom, I finally feel like part of a group again.” And the people rejoiced. I walk into church and I know the majority of the people. How did that happen? The straw bales are in place for our garden and have decided to start growing grass without my permission or encouragement. Hey, at least they can grow something! I’m in a project at work I hope will continue long term. It feels like everything is coming up green.

The best part of losing something is that when you get it again, it tastes sweeter. That’s how this feels. I am doubly thankful because I know what it’s like to have been without. There’s new life all around.

Just When You Think You’re There

Post author:Gina B
Post published:October 6, 2014
Post category:transition

I walked onto the field a few weeks ago for our daughter’s first scrimmage with a new club soccer team. It dawned on me that I had no idea which sideline parents were ours.

So I did what any person who is plain tired of initiating with others would do, and I used a lifeline to phone a friend. Safe in that conversation, I watched the game for 30 minutes until I had firmly established that I was, in fact, sitting with the opposite team’s parents.

Just when I think maybe we’re over this whole transition drama, it comes along to bite me in the behind. It crops up in the kids realizing that they don’t quite know what to do with themselves on the weekend because there aren’t a dozen friends within walking distance like there used to be, and it’s a fresh grief. Or when I once again get blindsided by the “present proof your children are immunized” process and I feel like an idiot outsider who can’t seem to get with the program.

Thankfully, we have a little more emotional bank account to draw from these days, but it’s still tough. It’s no fun explaining to your kids that it might just be this way for good, or at least for awhile. It’s embarrassing to admit that you didn’t keep great records of your kids’ shots overseas because you never knew you’d have to produce them in order for them to go to school. It’s tiring to once again be the new girl trying to break in.

It’s a whole lot of emotions that keep getting stirred. The journey continues, and we press on.

Experiencing God

Post author:Gina B
Post published:September 3, 2014
Post category:faith transition

I’ll never forget the phone call from my husband in Singapore, telling me that we’d been asked to move there. The blood drained from my face at the prospect. I didn’t even know where Singapore was. I thought it was near Fiji (it is not near Fiji).

With less than 5 months to process this change, many details had to fall into place. We arrived on a Thursday night, hours after our co-workers there had been given the key to our new apartment. The next morning, as we sat in our empty dining room, we prayed that our shipment would arrive (we’d heard not a peep from the movers). Within 5 minutes, the doorbell rang. It was the moving company.

Looking back on it, I felt God’s tenderness. He knew how hard it was for us to move to Singapore, to leave behind the life we had. All those details falling into place felt like gifts from Him, saying, “I’m going to get you through this.”

Five years later, when we moved back into East Asia, the process wasn’t so smooth. Visa and shipping issues tied us and pushed our leave date again and again. I finally cried out in exasperation, “God, last time you were so tender with us! Why don’t I see it now?”

His answer was clear, “Because that’s not what you need now.”

It was true. I was overjoyed to be moving back to our previous home. I didn’t need comfort. I needed restoration after a long two years of ill health and loneliness. That summer was three months of glorious God-given re-everything: restoration, refreshment, rejuvenation, re-you name it. And through it all, I felt God rejoicing in giving it to me, cause that’s just the kind of God He is.

After those times, I was curious to see what aspect of His character I would experience most in moving back to the U.S. We moved back two years ago today (what??), so I thought it would behoove me to reflect upon it (and also, I like the word “behoove”).

I think more than anything, I have experienced God as the rock who anchors me. He has been my constant, my solid place. He has kept me from drifting too far from home. He has been the place I can rest when the waves are too strong for me. His strength has tethered me when I have reached the end of my resources again and again. He is the deepest truth about who I am when everything else is shifting sands.

What will He show me next?

Back to Normal, for Now

Post author:Gina B
Post published:July 7, 2014
Post category:third culture kids transition

The other day, our daughter said, “If we could bring Scout out here, I would want to stay here forever.”

So it seems she is enjoying the summer. And why wouldn’t she be? Two of her oldest and dearest friends are here with her, along with a couple dozen other TCKs (Third Culture Kids), for six weeks. Weekday mornings we have meetings, during which the kids are together doing fun activities. The rest of the time we all live together in college student housing all centered around a common courtyard. We’re back to the days of, “I don’t know where the kids are, but I know they’re having fun. They’ll probably come home when they’re hungry.” In other words, it’s their paradise.

It’s also their normal. Our kids came into the world when we lived in a building with 29 other people we worked with, as well as nine kids under the age of 5, most of us within 5 stories of one another. We bought a security door with our American neighbors and placed it 10 feet down the hallway (instead of each of us having our own outside our doors) so that we could leave our own doors open for the families to go back and forth at any time.

When we moved to Singapore, we again had numerous families we knew all centered around a common courtyard, this time with a pool. Every day at 2 pm, that’s where we were. Our last two years in Asia, most of the people from our office lived within a 2 mile radius of one another. Between us there were 60 school age kids, and most of them were homeschooled. There wasn’t a day that went by without friends.

Then we came to the States, and our kids didn’t know what to make of it. Ethan’s managed to find some friends a couple blocks away, and they are over as much as possible, but we’re still praying for Megan to have at least one good friend in the neighborhood. They are realizing that what they grew up with just wasn’t the norm.

Throughout our transition, this has been one of the places of deepest grief for our kids. As much as they want life to be the way they knew growing up, they simply cannot make it that way. They are still trying to figure out how to do without.

And then we come here, and life IS that way, and we’re all kinds of happy and thankful and relieved (it’s hard to think of things to do without friends!).

So what is my conclusion? I confess I’m tempted to look ahead and gather my emotional energy for the fallout of losing this environment once again. I’m trying instead to simply be grateful for the gift of having this amazing community.

After the Storm of Transition

Post author:Gina B
Post published:July 2, 2014
Post category:transition

Have you ever walked through the woods after a big storm? You can hear the water still dripping from the trees, the animals venturing out again. The ground is soft, you find new puddles, maybe some downed branches. There’s a quietness in comparison to the fury of the storm. It’s back to normal, it seems, but great storms rarely leave things unchanged.

My last post was over a month ago. I could blame the end of the school year, or travel (we’ve been up to Minnesota and are currently in Colorado helping with a training). I’ll admit that the frequency of my posting is often directly proportional to the amount of time I spend with God. That might be part of it.

But mostly, I don’t have much to say. I feel like I am wandering through the woods of our lives after a great storm, surveying the land, wondering, “What next?” I am so accustomed to life being turbulent, I don’t quite know what to make of the relative calm.

That’s not to say we’re done transitioning back to the U.S. A friend out here said the other day that she’d heard it takes one year for every four overseas. That leaves us with about 2-2 1/2 more years to go. That’s both overwhelming and comforting, strangely.

Our time out here involves training people who are about to move overseas and go through their own storms of transition, so I just might have more to say about it. At the least, I think it will help me make some sense of this new view after the worst of the storm.

Longing for the Past-the Pangs of Transition

Post author:Gina B
Post published:May 19, 2014
Post category:transition

My Enneathought for today was, “I release feeling jealous of others and their good fortune.” Apparently, the people at the Enneagram Institute are aware that my husband is currently staying in our old apartment on the other side of the world, enjoying plates of gong bao ji dingr and catching up with old friends. I want to go to there.

He’s asked me repeatedly what he can bring back for me, but it’s not an easy question to answer. Can you bring back some gan bian dou jiao? Some jiaozi? Yao guo ji dingr? A honey lemon with aloe CoCo drink? How about some Lao Beijing yogurt? Ok, I’m truly not a foodie, but how could I not ask?

Actually, what I’d like even more is if he could bring me a head massage, followed by a foot massage, followed by a full body massage, preferably by a blind masseuse. In addition I’d like an hour or two to peruse the jewelry floor at Hong Qiao, a stroll down a hutong or two for some photo ops, and why don’t you also throw in some kind of “I have to blog about this” crazy experience on the street? Maybe involving an animal someone’s trying to sell me? And then absolutely you must bring Sung and Tammy and Elaine and . . . and . . . and . . .

Sigh. “I release feelings of jealousy of others and their good fortune.” As long as he can figure out a way to bring me some of it.

5 things to do when life is good

Rest

Give thanks

Remember others

Bear witness

Let it fuel the future