This evening, I realized that it has already been one full year since I moved to Virginia Beach for my year of service for the Richmond Diocese. I could easily think back at what exactly I did during my first two nights in my new home and I also couldn’t help but refer back to my journal about the beginning phases of that transition. And I realize now how it still, of course, pertains to me. (Take that, change!)
Ever since I moved back, life readjusting back home has been busy. I went on a few job interviews days after. I had family from Texas that stayed here for about a month and I started a new job. My work schedule is always different and my prayer time grew more and more unsteady. I was away from the community I was with for the past year and didn’t really have anyone to ask me how my heart was. I found it difficult to seek out spiritual direction. So after weeks of all this and more, I started losing my way. I felt distant from the One who kept my life together and it frightened me. One afternoon on the commute home, the reality of my prayer life diminishing hit me to the core. And it didn’t lessen because of all that was going on, but because I wasn’t finding a way to work with the change that came my way.
It’s undeniably tough to transition from a year where your work revolved around constant prayer through the joys & trials, and you were surrounded with people who desired to grow in their relationship with Christ. Now that I’m in the retail industry where it is filled with so much demand (a demand that I am still trying to get accustomed with), I lost my way in keeping my soul nourished as it should be. I just couldn’t keep up. After a few weeks of the heartaches and frustration, I was brought to me knees and found myself desperately needing help. And the simple message I was reminded of when I broke apart from my feelings of unworthiness and finally knelt before Him in silence and in complete abandon was “I’m here. I’ve always been here.”
Here’s a piece of that journal entry from my first night:
Tonight is my first night alone without them. I’m praying for the strength to move forward and to rely even more on the Lord during this time of transition…. After reflecting on the tears and sadness that overcame my heart when I saw my parents drive off, I then reflected on what my life would feel like, and how I would feel emotionally if I went without my Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament. Endless tears and sobs? A loss of purpose in life? Would I feel anything at all? I don’t want to imagine life without the Eucharist. But He’s not going anywhere and I am comforted at the unchanging truth that wherever I go, He is there. That alone is reason enough to praise Him because He is with me. And as difficult as this transition will be, I know my dependence on Christ will be greater in every moment.
Yes, change is constant, but so is God. Like I said, it’s comforting to know He’s always present and it is also comforting to see His constant presence in my life — in the words that I have written and in the words that I write now. I’ve lost track of that throughout these weeks of summer, but it was in this season of transition where He was able to once again show me His undying thirst for me, a thirst that’ll never go away or change.
In Christ’s hope,