Transformation

I've always been both deeply fascinated and irrationally terrified of transformation. Furniture being replaced, sent my 4 year-old self into into a weepy frenzy, as did graduating college (although, I aggressively tried to blame that one on not having enough coffee that day). At the same time, there are parts of me that love change. Looking back, and seeing how much I have grown in 22 years of life and taking a plain bed room and making it my own both bring me much joy. Watching spaces transform is also special to me. Watching the college bar turn into a space for worship each Sunday night was a huge piece of what made me excited to be a part of ministry. One of the many reasons I loved working part time in a preschool while I was in college was getting to watch the classroom caterpillars turn into butterflies each fall, and the eggs hatch into chicks each spring. Sitting in those tiny chairs with my 3 and 4 year old friends, in awe of the way creation works, brought me some of the most surprising and real feelings of overwhelming joy I have experienced in my adult life.

I count it a blessing that growing up, I never had a jarring moment where I realized all the magic children are allowed to believe in, wasn't real. The imagination I had for the magic, let if fade slowly into faith and hope. When I started working in the off season for what had for years been my summer home, I started to feel that jarring feeling I had successfully dodged as a little girl. My thin place and first love transitioned from being ten weeks of hard, invigorating, soul filled work and friendships to my nine to five (although most days the hours don't even nearly resemble that). Most people I I've talked to say this phase of life, the out of college, just figuring things out stage, is difficult. My life style, social life, geographical location, and so much more changed. At the same time, it has been like finding out, that there is no Santa, no magic, simply parents staying up late to make Christmas feel magical. I started to see cracks and brokenness, and my life long perfect image of my favorite place broke a little more as each exhausting week passed by. This double dipped change was (and somedays still is) hard to swallow.

Still, it is something that I needed to learn. It is not the piece of land or the people that made me love this place. The most exciting driveway in the world and the beautiful chapel of the pines are not inherently any different than anywhere else really. What made this place different, is that this is where God met me. Year after year, it reminded me of what is the most important and most true thing: that Jesus is King and that I am a beloved daughter of the creator of the Universe. That hasn't changed. It never will. How I am reminded of that has, but it needed to. As I start what I hope will be a life time of ministry, I am learning to lean into putting my trust in Jesus and not the vessels He met me through. In all this, in the mess and the really hard parts, because of who Jesus is, it is still really really beautiful. Not because of who I am or because of what Ligonier Camp is, but because of the gospel- dust is not left as dust, but it is turned brilliantly and vastly into beautiful things. So I celebrate, what at times has felt like the loss of my first love, as I fall deeper and deeper in love with the Lord and love of my life.