To be perfectly honest, when I started this week’s post, I thought it was going to be about transitions. There have been many, and will be more in the next few months, and I thought that that’s what had been on my mind, but after Saturday afternoon at a mother/daughter lunch with my sister and mom, I realized that it’s only a facet of what’s been on my mind.
Between my older brother graduating and moving to Georgia in early June with his wife, still searching for a new job, and then deciding that something in my life has to change (for the better hopefully), I realized that right now, I’m not in the part of my life that’s a transition.
I’m in smack dab in the middle of a season of my life.
In fact, the speakers at the luncheon spoke about that very topic. Incredibly apropos.
I’ve spent the week preparing for the luncheon, running all over town with my mom and my sister, only to decide to use my great-grandma’s china. And while washing it a few days ago, it came to my attention that right now, I am my great-grandma’s china.
This beautiful set has been boxed up in storage. It’s gathered dust, and been carefully packed away waiting until it could be used. I could tell you how I cleaned the grime from it, and that it polished and gleamed, that it looked as unused as when it had been packed away, and it would be true.
But it’s still aged. Time has passed, and this china set is still older than it had been, and if it could talk, it probably wouldn’t sound like Mrs. Potts, but more like Lilian from Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt (or maybe that’s how I imagine it would sound). This china has been unused, hasn’t fulfilled it’s purpose until much later in it’s life. Ceramic gets stronger the older it is, but it still has dings and scrapes it accumulates during it’s life. Somehow, it still manages to be beautiful.
I’m in the season of my life where I don’t feel like I’ve just been taken out of the box and cleaned up like a man going from hipster-hobo chic to donning his tux. It seems more like I’m being packed away in the box until I can be used. Maybe that’s true, and maybe it’ll only be for a short time, or maybe this metaphor has gotten really out of hand.
And maybe this season is one of beginnings, not endings. Of leaving the last few years behind, and embracing whatever might happen. Of shedding hurt, and pushing forward. If I try hard enough, maybe one day I will gleam just like great-grandma’s china—dings and scrapes and all.
*As a note: I know this week’s post is late, but I had 99 problems with my computer this week.