Regarding Change And Whatnot

I don't enjoy change for the sake of change.

Sometimes "change" is a good thing; when it's as good as a rest, or when it makes a fresher, brighter space, or when it adds up to enough for a London Fog at my favourite coffee place...

But more often change is just plain tough. It means a season of adapting, compromise, learning new things, stretching, working it through...

We're coming to the end of a summer of change, here in The Field.

It started with an urge to "change" the bedroom around. He *knew* he had a picture in his files of how it looked with the bed over there instead of over here... so he searched until he found it, finding, in the process, some pictures of other rooms from when we'd first moved and the spaces hadn't begun yet to fill up.

We decided that we liked the rooms we saw in the pictures of Parsonage Past, and began working our way through a small mountain of books, clutter, fabric and patterns,  in the hope of finding that quieter, less busy place.

A month into The Great Purge of '15, we stumbled upon a little house in our neighbourhood that was up for sale. We investigated, and started walking through a process that had us excited about maybe finding *home*- belonging; roots enough to truly feel part of this community. That the little house was indeed very little only spurred us on to deepen the purge in order to live comfortably in about an eighth of the space we currently inhabit. I was confident we could do it. A good, healthy change. A liberating change.

Then the house deal fell through, and we had to readjust our minds and hearts. 

Just when we were beginning to feel reoriented and content again in our house by the church in the field, we entertained, unawares, an unwanted visitor in the middle of the night.

Ours was one of half a dozen acreages and farms broken into nearly 3 weeks ago. They hit the outbuildings and shops mostly, but our house was one of the few they entered. Although they didn't find any fun toys in the garage, they made off with His new phone and my very old laptop computer. Which means more change of the kind I don't like.

My computer has been replaced, but it's a brand, spanking new one. I've gone from Windows Vista to having to learn Windows 10. It's too new for my old computer game, He thinks, (I'll admit that I like to build houses and play god on Sims2), so I'm having to give a newer version of the game a try. 

Changing all my passwords, changing my favourite game, changing the locks, changing the way we trust the world... not the kind of change that precedes happiness and joy necessarily.

I've changed my perspective a little, figuratively, and a lot, literally. I'm reading the screen here with my new progressive lenses- a change that I'm actually quite happy about. It's taking a little bit to get used to the new spectacles, but I can knit and watch T.V. at the same time again, and that's a change I welcome. 

And the weather is changing. I love the transition into autumn, but I shudder a little at what follows. We just bit the bullet and have secured a better vehicle to face the storms of winter with, but again- change. 

And our last chick has flown the nest, although I'm sure he wouldn't like being referred to as a chick. His stuff is still in the room that has been his since we moved here, but this is the beginning of the end for us, the beginning of the beginning for him. Another change, albeit a good, and necessary one.

Is there a point to this rambling? I don't know. Maybe it's just about getting all y'all caught up. Maybe it's about processing the last few months. Maybe it's about admitting that the summer was a roller-coaster ride of emotions and in the end I'm left feeling a little stretched and heart-sore yet.

One thing that remains is the necessary ability to roll with the punches; I continue to be fairly adaptable, and that's a good thing that I hope doesn't change any time soon. 

Change is a good thing if it means becoming a stronger, transformed version of myself. The changes of this summer are only negative if I let myself become hardened by them; if I don't let those changes rub off the rough edges that needed rubbing off; if I refuse to grow and be made better by this season of change. 

In spite of my age and the progressive lenses in my new glasses, I think I'm not yet old enough to be completely unmoved and unaffected by change. I hope.

So, here's to change. And that London Fog...