divergence
It’s hard to wait for the house, whichever house we end up getting (hopefully the one we’ve had our eye on). Diane’s been busy virtually redecorating and remodeling the entire house. We’ve had lots of conversations about it. We share the anticipation of just “having all our ‘stuff’ in one box;” the feeling of being in the house and knowing that all our worldly possessions—kids, things, cars, memories, etc—are neatly tucked away in their “cubbies.” That contrasts with the current situation, with our neighbors downstairs and next door sharing our “box,” our cars in the parking lot 100ft away, the storage unit, and so on. We feel very sprawled out, as it were.
There are so many angles to consider. I know I’ll feel occasionally trapped or constrained by the psychological stability of being in a house, whether or not that stability is mirrored in our life situation at any given time. I mean, the one overarching emotion attendant most house purchases is one of putting down roots, anchoring your family to that spot for the purpose of providing them a foundation upon which to grow and change. Life happens; jobs are lost and won, tragedies, successes, but The House retains a sense of permanence. On the surface it feels like I’m knowingly restricting myself, but I’ve made enough decisions in my life to know that every one actually opens up a whole array of new possibilities invisible from this side of the choice. So that tempers the feeling a bit.
On a more fundamental level, though, why is it that I fear the loss of “options” inherent in making a choice? Why do I hoard my possibilities, as it were? I’ve written about this before, but never really asked myself why I (and others) do it. I’ve just made passing observations to the effect that “I’m feeling this way again,” like a spectator looking in on my own thought life. Do I fear I’ll make the wrong decision? Do I want to avoid the responsibility and hard work that necessarily follows from committing to a course of action and embarking on it? Is there something inherently attractive about being flexible, about having options available to me, like having money in my wallet?
As soon as I consider those explanations, though, I remember there’s never been a time when I’ve actually been paralyzed by too many choices. A decision had to be made, and by the grace of God I made a decision and embraced the effects of that decision. So come to think of it, maybe the “fear” of the loss of possibilities isn’t a fear at all, but simply an acknowledgment that at certain points in my life, there are more possibilities immediately before me than at others, like a child looking out a car window at the myriad of fast food restaurants that border the main drag of some small town. When the time comes, the choice will be made and I’ll step through it. Does this mean I’m a passive agent of my choices, as if such a thing were possible? No—I take responsibility for them; I consider them and want to make wise ones, but at the end of the day I really, truly believe that the Lord is working everything together for His glory and our good as believers. Regardless of the “surface quality” of the choice’s outcome, good or bad, our good is being more conformed to the image of His Son. That’s the bedrock.