This week I cleaned out my office.  Not a small task.  After 15 years as a fabric designer (the last 6 years spent working out of my home) there were plenty of snippets and swatches apparently building a secret city in my cabinets.  After eight months of no longer working, I decided that it was time to scrap all the pieces, clear my head and move on.  I can't tell you how happy the trash men looked as they pulled into my culdesac and saw bag after bag lying beside my overloaded trash can.  Joyous.

I was lucky enough when we built our house to build an office specifically geared towards my job.  It is an unusual job after all, and needs a different set up than most:  A pin up board that covers an entire wall. Track lighting that is focused on the board for the hours of color work that take place.  A huge four foot high table used solely for rolling out and cutting massive rolls of fabric.  A secluded area for my CAD system that is specifically angled away from light sources in order to avoid glares.  And, of course, lots and LOTS of space to store swatches, idea scraps, artwork and the menagerie of items that have surrounded me since my twenties. 

It is a great space.  But, because it was specifically designed with one thing in mind for its use, I felt stuck somehow.  I couldn't move on and didn't feel comfortable in it doing other things. Like, I wasn't allowed to be anything other than a designer in that space.

As I listened to someone talk on identities this week, I realized that I had become too tangled up in who I thought I was before I lost my job.  In many ways, I felt as if I should be able to be a designer until I decided otherwise.  That it should be on my terms.  And, since I wasn't ready to give it up yet, it wasn't over.  But, as is usually the case, God had a plan for me that had nothing to do with my plan for myself.  In fact, as I look back on the last few years, I feel like I've been counteracting His plan in my fight to keep my own plan in line.

For many of us, it is all too easy  to tie ourselves up in the idea of who we think we are. We spend years tackling our careers or other callings to rise to the top.  Images that come solely from who people believe us to be on the outside: a banker, a doctor, a realtor, a designer.  And, more  often than not, those identities--though they may garner a significant amount of attention--truly have little to do with who we actually are. And more importantly, often have nothing to do with who we are in God's eyes.

Sometimes we have to move on from these persona in order to explore the person that God has meant for us to become.  To move on from the life we have set up for ourselves and begin to settle into the one that He would have for us instead. 

As I've struggled with letting this image of myself go, I've burrowed further down into my hole, trying to cling onto the remnants of my past.  It's been an eight months of kicking, screaming, crying and clinging with my fingernails.  Not pretty to admit.

Though it is difficult to move on,and though we may struggle to hang on as our fingers are pried one by one off of our stronghold, it is comforting to know that our hands are not the only ones involved.  As I've transitioned through this phase in my life, I've come to realize (slowly, of course--my special gift) that God has placed His hand of protection over me during this time.  It is a placing so gentle and unobtrusive that I often didn't realize it was there.  As He allowed me to continue on my own path, He still remained beside me, gently nudging me in His direction for me. Putting a passion in me to complete His goals instead of my own.

As Proverbs 3:5-6 states:
"Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight."

As I've become more familiar with this truth, I'm beginning to feel His hand lifting.  And, as it has, I've been struck by the influx of light and air that comes from letting go of my plan and moving towards what I believe He would like for me to do next.  From this vantage point, I am more able to look back  and clearly understand why the roots I stumbled over, and the divots I tripped into were there.  T o see them as hidden blessings in jobs not taken in haste or out of desperation.  To focus on the clearing up ahead, and the One waiting for me to move in His direction. 

He is still there with me in this.  But, now his hand has shifted.  Firmly planted on my back and gently guiding me as we walk in the same direction, towards the same goal: His.