These are the days of a thousand moving parts. Things will settle soon, as much as things ever actually “settle” for me, but for the last six months we have been in the process of a major interstate move. We have moved a household, moved a business, and moved more than a few boxes.
Sometimes there are seasons of “transition.” That doesn’t even begin to describe this. And what makes it even heavier is that in the past there have been teams of people – people by the dozen – to help with the process. This time it’s been the two of us, aided by some herculean efforts of some friends and family.
And should I mention today’s news flash? I ain’t gettin’ any younger.
All of this on top of a regular work schedule that hasn’t waited for anyone or anything.
We all go through seasons like that – thankful that they’re just seasons. We move. We welcome new babies into the family. We change jobs or careers. We face upheavals at work. We take on more than we think we can handle. We are confronted with a fire or destructive weather event.
And all the parts start moving – some of them groaning all the way.
The World of the Moving Parts
In the world of All the Moving Parts, there is more to do. More to oversee. More to get help with.
There is more to spend money on. More to lose money over. More to worry about.
With All the Moving Parts, there is more that can go wrong. More reasons to be frustrated, tired or disappointed (three more lame words for such a season). More ways to have your rawest of weaknesses exposed.
There are more people you have to trust, but fewer people who have earned it. There is more to get done, but no more hours in the day to do it. There are (believe it or not) more opportunities for gain, but more risks for loss as well.
And more times than not, in the world of All the Moving Parts, there is something of a grieving. There are doors to close behind you, on the other side of which are people that you love and care about – some of them lifelong or lifetime friends.
Can you relate?
Revisiting the Titanic
A month or so ago, I sort of woke up in the middle of the night. I guess I should say I almost woke up. I was in one of those dream-like stupors in between sleep and wakefulness. And in that state, I was standing at the helm of an ocean liner. I was in the North Atlantic, and there in front of me were all these moving icebergs. I knew I could navigate through them, but I also knew that one false move or misstep would result in disaster.
That startled me enough to wake me up fully. And those dream-induced icebergs became real-life situations…
Things to worry about.
Things to get done.
Things that could go wrong.
That’s when I heard, at least in my heart, the voice of the Most Wonderful of Counselors.
“Andy,” He said. “Look at those dogs next to you.”
(I should point out here that two of our dog wannabes sleep with us every night. Do your own inventory.)
There next to me were Cash and Gracie, tightly curled in little balls, firmly pressed against my leg and hip.
“How worried do you think they are about their future?”
“Probably not a bit, Lord.”
“What do you think they are concerned about?”
“Well, at the moment, I’d say they’re most worried about staying connected to me.”
“And what are they doing?
“Maybe you could learn something from them,” He said. “Andy, just stay connected to Me regardless of anything else. And trust Me… I’m the Lord of all the moving parts.”
And throughout, He has been.
I don’t know where you are in your life. You may be navigating through icebergs or sitting on a slow-moving (or melting) glacier. What I do know is that regardless of the nature of the movement, He is Lord of all the Moving Parts.
And you can trust Him.
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