This Side of Heaven

I heard a quote once that rocked me to my core. It went something like, “Everything that God directly wills or allows is for the sanctification of my soul.” Alas, like so many other things, I can’t remember where I read it or who said it first (if you do, please let me know!).

This is tough stuff, but it really makes sense to me. If I am God’s child, then he loves me more than I love myself. He also wants heaven for me more than I want it for myself. So everything that comes my way, whether it seems good or bad, He will find a way to let it draw me closer to Him.

As I sit in my office writing this, I can wholeheartedly agree with this sentiment. When I’m in the trenches, dealing with yet another hardship or pain, my brain is not so easily convinced. I’m no stranger to suffering (let me meet the one who is so I may die of shock), and time and time again, God has supported me and given me the grace and resources to endure life’s challenges. I’ve experienced firsthand how my experiences, which seemed on the outside as tragedies, have proven to strengthen me and convert me into a closer version of the woman God wants me to be.

My most recent challenge has been another out-of-state move to a place where I know no one. I naively thought that since I’ve done this more than once or twice before, it would be easy this time. I know the tricks. My kids are older and not throwing tantrums in the middle of the grocery store while I desperately try to find where they stock canned beans because they’re not where the last four grocery stores have kept them.

Even without diapers and nap times, settling in a new town is hard. My primary job as mom is a blessing and a curse in these situations. On the one hand, I’m not searching for employment or struggling with a loss of income until I find one. But the flip side is that I don’t have any built-in socialization or structure to my day. My kids aren’t play-date age anymore, so moms groups aren’t viable either.

Blessings surround me. I have a wonderful, God-fearing husband whose income supports our family comfortably. We have a roof over our heads and food on the table. There are no major health issues in our family currently. I am especially grateful for the Catholic Church that welcomes me in familiarity as we settle in our new city. The list could go on.

I know that it takes time for a new place to feel like home. I know that real friends and relationships develop over years, not weeks. I know that God has either willed or allowed us to be here for the sanctification of my soul. While that doesn’t make a friend magically appear, it does comfort me deeply.

St. Thérèse of Lisieux once wrote, “The world's thy ship, not thy home.” As I’ve grieved the loss of my old community and friends, this quote has stuck with me. If I let it, this move can be a beautiful reminder that everything on this side of heaven will pass. Even good things, like loved ones and a vibrant parish, can be earthly attachments. God knows all too well that I attach to people.

By relocating me so regularly (every three years or so, lately), I am freed from earthly roots that bind me to this life. It is being forged through fire, and a path that I would never willingly choose for myself. I find that to be the case often, the difficult paths that I desperately prayed wouldn't be mine, are the routes that lead me exactly where I’m meant to be.

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