By Ada Nicholson Brownell
Our first move was when we
were married less than a year. We landed in a cabin on top of Colorado’s
Tennessee Pass. Since then we’ve moved more than 30 times.
My most troubling
"relocation" was Thompson, a town in the Utah desert, Population 100,
three bars, and no church. My husband, a railroader, worked nights. We had
a two-week-old baby; a dilapidated rental, no telephone; knew no one in town. Ninety
miles separated me from my family and the doctor. The nearest city hid 38 miles
another direction.
Previously, we owned a cute little house in
my home town, surrounded by friends and family. I was president of a thriving church
youth group. After the move, my emotions went splat on the brick wall
of seemingly impossible circumstances. Through God's grace I discovered moving
isn't the end of the world.
Here are 10 ways I learned to accept change.
1.
God directs
my steps.[1]
In Utah, I learned to be thankful for the railroad job and for new friends.
While we lived in the mountain cabin, we made wonderful friends in nearby
Minturn, Colo. In Thompson my husband joined the Thompson/Crescent Junction baseball
team and that opened doors to make friends. When God sent a young Christian
woman my age to town, we started a Sunday school. We lived in Thompson five
years, and I look back on those years fondly.
2.
I
can keep old friends. We have friends scattered everywhere.
We still have some from my home town. We stopped in Thompson to see the Rogers about
five years ago. Bonnie, from Minturn, Colo., and I have stayed in touch over decades.
When I joined Facebook, other precious friends renewed acquaintance. I value
these folks.
3.
I
can make new friends. Wonderful people who need somebody
are everywhere. By being willing to move, my circle of friends exploded. We moved to Missouri eight years ago. I found I could make new connections even as a
senior. Mothers of Preschoolers needed mentors, a children’s pastor hunted more
teachers, a senior choir had openings, senior groups had activities. Making
friends takes effort, but it’s worth it.
4.
New
challenges often create character. I’ve taught youth that
everything we learn, accomplish or do that is a challenge grows us into better
people. I learned when I changed my attitude about moving God directed my
footsteps, renewed my mind and helped me to be a better person, wife and mother.
Ministry is needed everywhere. When
I grieved because I had to resign as youth leader to move, I looked back
instead of embracing the future. When I
willingly jumped from a treasured place to migrate again, I learned soaring
into the future is more fun that sitting in the nest.
5.
Another
place might open unexpected doors. I didn’t plan to be a writer
or reporter, but while in the Utah desert with time on my hands, I began
writing for Christian publications and worked as a newspaper correspondent. I
later spent 17 years as a reporter for a daily newspaper. Would this have
happened if I hadn’t left what was behind and pressed on?
6.
We
can enjoy a different location. Learning the attributes of a new place
builds affection. This took effort. The second move to Thompson, my husband worked
Sundays, so we drove 38 miles to Moab to evening church services— and made
friends. We discovered a ghost town a
few miles up a canyon, and Indian hieroglyphs beside the dusty road. Near Moab
was Dead Horse Point, a miniature Grand Canyon, and Arches National Monument.
In cities, we took advantage
of tennis courts, parks, scenery, tourist sites, libraries and shopping. We decided to enjoy each new home town.
7. We can blossom
anywhere. Paul wrote, “I learned in whatever state I am to be
content.”[2]
When each move came, I learned to decide to
be happy, allow God to use me, hang on to old friends and make new ones, look
to the future, hunt for the good in a community, get involved, enjoy people and
life where the Lord leads. That way each location became a haven for joy.
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