Settling In

September marks, for me, a shift towards settling in as fall and then winter encroach and the world outside begins to close in for a long winter’s rest. As the weather cools, our own routines shift from open-ended vacation days to rhythmic school and work. I love this change in seasons, this annual shift in life, this exhale. And yet, as September lengthens into October and November, I can feel antsy and bored, too, somehow.

I’ve always kind of liked change. In the eleven years since I got married, we’ve changed houses almost a dozen times. And not just because we had to but because we wanted to. I cannot stay off Zillow (perhaps I should have been a realtor) and easily feel the pull for a change of scenery, a new project, a new space to make a home. “Oh, the Byxbes are moving again!” became a running joke of sorts among our friends through the years. I’m somewhat amazed that we haven’t run out of friends who are willing to help us move!

Next month, though, will mark two years of living in the same house, a milestone in our marriage. When we moved into this 1960’s-era home, replete with its shag carpet and avocado-green tiled bathroom, I dubbed it Gardendale Roots and began telling friends that this was our forever house. I had finally reached a point where settling in became appealing. Maybe it’s my ever-nearing approach to middle age or the fact that I have three kids and a dwindling supply of energy.

But I also felt the deep-down craving for establishing roots. Instead of moving on to the next new thing, I wanted to find contentment in what surrounds me. I wanted to settle into the routine, and yes, sometimes the monotony, of the same place, same people, same old same old, each and every day. As I get older and my free spirit cools—or at least reimagines herself—and settles into the long-haul rhythm of midlife, what I once viewed skeptically, I now want.

Doesn’t this seem countercultural? We’re a people inundated with marketing that want to sell us on the next adventure, the next promotion, the next best thing. We’re sold the value of new, bright, and shiny over the known, mundane, and ordinary.

But what if by settling in we actually find the sacred and holy in all that is mundane and ordinary?

Pregnancy has been one of my greatest teachers on settling in. There’s the initial, fluttering excitement of discovering that you are, indeed, with child. And then, the rush of excitement as you share the good news with friends and family. But after that’s all over, all you can do is settle in for the next several months. Of course, there are preparations to be made, doctor appointments to schedule, and baby showers to attend. But really, we can’t hurry the development of that baby. So we settle in with expectant, growing hope. There are days when the yearning to see and hold your baby is so intense, you think you can’t possibly wait another second. Yet you must wait and be reminded that we are not the masters of our time or circumstances. Waiting is good for the human soul.

We tend to buck against this kind of waiting. We churn our wheels and spin out in the anxious mud of our thoughts. We expend precious energy fighting against what we actually need, which is to settle into here, into this present moment with God. Study the landscape. Look long and deep. Ponder questions. Worship God’s beauty and repeat gratitude over the very small things that nourish us each day.

Our God is one who is in it for the long haul, for settling in with us, for seeing and knowing, for absorbing the minute details. Consider Psalm 139:

You have searched me, Lord,
and you know me.
You know when I sit and when I rise;
you perceive my thoughts from afar.
You discern my going out and my lying down;
you are familiar with all my ways.
Before a word is on my tongue
you, Lord, know it completely.
You hem me in behind and before,
and you lay your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
too lofty for me to attain…

For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.

On days that are threatened by anxious thoughts, I come back to this Psalm where I clearly see God’s attention to the small and ordinary in an extraordinary way. On days when I wake up asking “Lord, where is the grace for today?” he reminds me that his grace is right there in the space of drinking my morning coffee, making breakfast, feeding the dogs, sweeping the floor, taking out the trash, helping my kids get ready for school, and every other simple moment of the day before me. As his attention is on every facet of my being and each of my comings and goings, so I will put my attention on him, the giver of grace in all the moments he has written down for me.

Lord, as the psalmist prayed, so do we: Search me, God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting (Psalm 139:23-24, NIV).

Allison Byxbe is a writer and teacher who lives with her family in South Carolina. When she’s not pondering words, she enjoys hiking, learning about natural health, and drinking the perfect latte. Allison loves to connect with others about family, special needs parenting, mental health, grief, and faith. Her writing has been featured on The Mighty and Her View from Home, and you can find more of it on her blog Writing Is Cheaper Than Therapy.

Photograph © Noémi Macavei-Katócz, used with permission