When I started dating my fiance, we would always joke because the first few minutes I would see him after being apart, I would feel all nervous and act really uncomfortable, and we called these times “transitioning.” After a few minutes, I would relax and be my normal self, Collin would ask, “Are we finally done transitioning?” It became a joke of sorts, and the length of time it took to exit transition.
I’m not sure exactly what caused me to have that moment with him. Why did I get nervous when I would see him and interaction would begin? Where did my confidence and charm go?
He was the first man I loved after my divorce. Sure there had been dates and “talking” but Collin was the first person I truly loved and cared for and risked my heart for. And, I knew I would love him deeply the first time we spent more than five minutes together. And that was scary. And transitions are scary. I was leaving my single woman status, which I had just gotten used to after years with my married woman status.
I was leaving what I thought was “safe.” Alone, with good friends, with community, with a great family, but no real need to risk. I didn’t really need to love anyone more than myself. I didn’t need to put my own desires beneath anyone else’s. There was no one and nothing that required me to risk and reveal the heart of things. If we had a disagreement, if we had a tiff, I could walk away or bury it, and try to forget it. We would still be friends, and nothing major in my life would be altered.
But I can’t do that with Collin. I can’t hide or pretend it didn’t happen, and I knew that. And I got nervous, and each time he came around after time apart, I grew nervous. It was as though each time I saw him, I left my “safe” place and entered a new place. And I was scared.
It was as those times of transition were times I had to remember that I was safe. It was the passage way, the doorway where I remembered Collin is good. Collin is kind. Collin is safe. It was the transition from my own idea of safety to remember that I am safe, loved, and held close because of God.
Those times of transition are nearly gone now. But I still have moments, when I think of getting married, where those times of transition occur. And in those times, when I find anxiety climbing up and my peace and love fleeing, I remind myself “You’re safe, you’re loved, you’re held.” A gracious reminder that God is in every change and move made.
Kacy Neinast lives in Fort Worth, Texas. She is a special education teacher and advocate of those with special needs and loves her job. She spends her time running, reading, and enjoying those she loves. Kacy believes in reinventing what it means to be a woman who loves the Lord and longs to help others learn to love the Lord with abandon, freedom, and a greater understanding of grace. She writes here.