Transitions are hard. It seems all of creation strains in the tension of no longer. In nature —we glory and grieve the colorful falling tree leaves. In death — we mourn as our temporary physical house is exchanged for our incorruptible eternal home. In relationships — emotions, memories, and future hopes mingle to form what we call The New Normal. Haha. Who are we kidding? Nah, there’s no new normal, because normal doesn’t exist anymore. There’s only New. Transitions are often just trainwrecks that have to be cleaned up.

Just for fun, I looked up the definition of the word. Transition: to make a change or shift from one state, subject, place, etc. to another. I had to chuckle with the Lord. “We shifted from one state to another alright,” I laughed out loud.

As I handed the baton of Greater Things to Emily and the Leadership Team (love those women!) God talked to me about His idea of transition.

Humans tend to think in terms of pain, loss, and cost.
Heaven tends to think in terms of expansion, multiplication, and reward.

Enter my lowly Pothos plant. Charis brought me a start from her plant that actually came from my dad’s funeral. When she presented the small, healthy little vine, she had one instruction: Mom, don’t kill it.

I put the plant in my kitchen window and watered it faithfully once a week. Charis would periodically visit and inspect my project. The plant seemed happy, and long vines began growing from the original shoot. Charis would gently circle it around the pot until I brought a trellis for it to climb instead of my windowsill and countertop.

Charis laughed and praised me. “Mom, whatever you are doing, it’s working. Don’t change a thing.” I followed her instructions for months, as the plant grew and weaved through the trellis.

Fast forward to my return home from the beautiful commissioning service in Knoxville. Needless to say, there were lots and lots of emotions and thoughts to process. I had a fair share of questions for the Lord, too.

In one conversation, He drew my attention to the Pothos plant and said it was time to separate it. The Lord said it couldn’t continue its current good health unless it was thinned out and put into a bigger pot.

I took the plant outside to begin the process of detangling it. I had to be so careful not to snap its tender vines as I pulled each one under and over. The strands were so intertwined, it was a tender and tedious job. I would finally get to the end of a vine and lay it to one side, then grab another strand and repeat the process.

I was amazed when I beheld the plant in its fullness. All that growth and beauty was tucked in one little pot, long and lush and vibrant. Now came the wrenching act of breaking the vines for repotting.

Wait, what? I worked so hard to grow them, now I am breaking them off??

You probably already know where this is going. . . As I was digging in the dirt, the Lord just kept telling me: Pay attention. Pay attention. Pay attention.

I now have my Pothos trimmed back so that it fits appropriately in the pot that it started in. It sits back cozy in my windowsill. Everything that I cut off of it has made this huge draping plant that is potted in a container three times bigger.

Pay attention. God went on to explain the parable to me.

Greater Things, much like the gatherings of people in the Bible, has all these rich, deep teachers growing inside this beautiful container. There is this profound deposit of the Holy Spirit and wisdom. The Lord said there’s not enough room in the current pot, and it needs to be separated and spread out so it can grow freely and fully.

He then did a little flash card journey through the Bible of people who were transplanted: Abraham and Sarah, Esther and Mordecai, Paul and Barnabas, the Jews scattered out of Jerusalem, and the disciples called to different regions.

God used a little Pothos to show me part of why I’ve been transplanted to Florida. Others in GT, like me, are going through moves and shifts. There is a huge Transition happening in the root system because God has a much bigger picture in mind.

But. And. Guess what?
All of my Pothos plants, the original and the new pots, are in shock.

They are literally in shock from the vine detangling, the new soil, the new pots, the disturbance of the roots. Before the transition, I saw fresh sprigs every day. Now it is like all of the vines are taking a deep breath. I asked the resident Pothos Doctor, Charis, and she assured me, “Mom, they are okay. They just need a minute to catch up.”

She explained that they are alive and well, but everyone needs a moment to get the roots strengthened and manage all the change.

Selah.

Remember how we view transition is important.
Human terms: pain, loss, and cost.
Heavenly terms: expansion, multiplication, and reward.

This is a new season of Greater Things. It is alive and well as the plant of origin. It just needs a little time to adjust. It needs a little love and encouragement in the change. Have you personally reached out to Emily and the team, Melissa, Ann, Lindsey, and Robin? They could use a fresh hug and a fresh vote of confidence. God is still blessing this beautiful planting. Are you?

It’s a brand new time for me. God has recently whispered the name of my new nonprofit in Florida.
Wait for it. . . Many Waters

Siiiigh, I LOVE it. Lots of work to still do, but in the meantime, He keeps connecting me to women who want more of Jesus.

The others of GT who are moving are going to places where God has assigned them to impact and invest. Yes, it’s a shock to all of us! We all need a moment to catch our breath. But WE ARE ALL ALIVE AND WELL! We get to be part of planting beautiful, new works with Jesus wherever we are.

Transitions are hard, no doubt. Like gardening, it gets dirty, manure stinks, and digging kills your back. Yet we trust that God plants in good, rich soil (or sand!) and He promises a kingdom harvest with great multiplication. Yes, Lord. We are wherever you plant us!!