Not an End

I'll just start by saying these past two and a half years have been my favorite season of my life. I have grown and matured more than I could have ever imagined and I got to meet amazing people along the way. Then enters this thing called transition.

Not a fan.

Transition is just a fancy way of saying things are changing and you either get with it or you put it off but eventually have to give in anyways because it has to happen.

It's not something you can stop. A lot of the time it's not something you even see coming.

You can be living life, loving it and not wanting anything to change, and then here comes transition lurking around the corner ready to slap you upside your head, or rip the rug out from underneath you.

Sometimes, however, you know when it's coming.

Sometimes you get to see it all unfold in front of you and you get time to process.

I'm not sure if this is better or not.

Being jolted into something new is sometimes better because otherwise you probably wouldn't have chosen to do it. That's how I ended up here in the first place.

Seeing the moment of transition coming and not wanting it to happen and not being able to stop it is hard.

That's how this has been.

Two years ago someone bought the permit to the land The Station is currently located on. We've had two years to process the fact that when our lease is up at the end of this month we will be moving.

We just had our last camp on the property.

So on the last morning, I got up early and went into the lodge to pray and worship. I sat at the back and stared at all of the chairs that sat there waiting to be occupied for breakfast.

And I thought about all of the campers that have come through our doors. And then I began to thank God for all the campers who have come through our doors.

I started thanking him for my life being impacted by this small little camp with the biggest vision. I thanked him for the friends I have made and the family I have become a part of. I somehow in a matter of minutes turned my mindset from "this is the end" to "this is just the beginning."

And honestly, it's the truth.

Transitions don't necessarily mean it's an end. Sometimes things end, but for this it's just the property.

The dream hasn't died. The vision is still there. It's just the beginning of what God wants to do with The Station.

So as I sat, finally accepting this transition.

The only word I could think of was thankful.

Thankful for this place and what it means to me.

And thankful for the more to come.

Impacted

There have been very few times in my life where I have been fully encompassed by sadness to the point where I couldn't breathe. And by very few, I mean that there have been two times that I remember vividly. The first time was December 6th, 2014. I had been leading worship at my church since my graduation in May and I was working at a donut shop and living with five other girls.

I had gained so many good friends in those short six months. So many people who stood by my side when I started getting burnt out. People who helped talk me through my past and show me that none of what happened was my fault.

Those people impacted my life so much that leaving literally felt like each and every one of them were being ripped from my heart. I left for reasons that now seem completely ridiculous, but I'm glad I did it. I'm glad that I endured crying six hours straight on my drive to my parents house because that decision led me to another decision.

The decision to move to Mammoth.

And to my dismay become a part of another amazing group of friends who loved me so much I started to love myself. They loved me so much that I started gaining confidence, I started seeing my worth, I started seeing that I have power and authority. God showed me that, but he also surrounded me with people that were going to hold me to believing nothing less. One in particular.

Which brings me to the second time, last Monday. Multiple people left Mammoth to go off and do new things, or follow dreams, or go back to the UK. It was probably the most emotional day I've had since that last one. Once I said goodbye to my roommate Jesse it was like my heart was completely numb and done saying goodbye to amazing people that I love.

I cried all day. And a little bit into the night. But surprisingly enough on Tuesday I only cried once, and it was because my roommate started crying first and I'm a sympathy crier.

In the midst of all the sadness, and the missing pieces, I know that it's going to be okay. Because I know that it only hurts this bad because it was good.

If I had to say goodbye to people and feel no sadness at all, then what real friendship did I have with them?