Some days it just feels as if the boxes, the smallness that my life has been reduced to in this transition will never end. I am counting down the days until these boxes and stacks get piled into a rental truck to be driven 500 miles to my new life.
While the physical space of the new cottage is smaller it feels as if I am being transplanted from a cramped pot into a spacious and roomy new pot with wonderfully nutrient-rich soil and plenty of room to grow. I can't say that this wild oak is being transplanted back into the wild just yet because I know that seminary is just a container for the next three years of intense training and formation where I will be strengthened and prepared to be transplanted into my true habitat.
Somewhere in my boxes there is a precious little bronze cross with a tree growing on it. If you look carefully there are places along the trunk of this cross-shaped tree where you can see the wounds of pruning. It reminds me that I am constantly being tended to by a Gardener who sees my potential and exactly what I need in order to fulfill the deepest purpose of my soul. I resent the pain of pruning, but it helps when I can somehow manage to return to the perspective that it isn't being done with malice but with love.
In 12 days that truck will be taking me to my new home and I will begin the process of settling into my new pot; setting new roots and strengthening my growth. Not only am I looking forward to this awkward transplanting time to be over I am looking forward to the new adventure that is ahead of me.