OK to Pivot

Four months ago, I started a Pastoral Residency role at the church where I've been a congregant for the past ten years. The role is one in which I utilize my degree in Theology and Culture, and minister through embodied experience to those who are walking out hard sh*t with the Lord.

My name is Heather Dawn, which I have interpreted to mean, over the years, "A flower (which grows among the rocky places) and draws others into the light." After navigating really hard things in my own life (grief and anxiety, namely) I gained an expanded capacity to minister in the area of benevolence (where I would meet others in their desolate places) and prayerfully discern how best our church is able to come alongside them. Having the experience of navigating those areas myself, I am beginning to see how God's ways truly are "higher than our ways, and his thoughts higher than our thoughts." Isaiah 55:8-9

Upon starting this pastoral residency, my instinct was to leave the place I had called home for three and a half years, and move closer to the city. What sense did it make to cross two bridges to go to work everyday, after all?

So I rented a place with a beautiful bay view on the fourth floor of a nice apartment complex in Richmond for a few months. I tried it on for month one, and two, then three, and four, realizing that I didn't quite feel at home in the rental---which made sense, didn't it? I had owned the last place I lived. I had been able to give it all of my own finishing touches, and update it however I saw fit. I'd developed a community and relationship with my neighbors. It made sense that the new place, with its beige carpet and beige walls and beige cabinets and white plastic blinds, didn't quite feel like my own.

But then the dogs started peeing all over the carpet, which they had never done at home (protesting? boredom? territory marking?) And the neighbors seemed to get creepier and creepier (following me into my garage? waiting outside of it when I got home?) and then my back started to ache more and more (which made me wonder about my miniature dachshunds backs, which probably also didn't love going up and down three large flights of stairs multiple times a day). I began to wonder: Had I done the right thing in moving to Richmond? Had I jumped too soon?

I recall that before I moved, the Holy Spirit asked me "Will you fight?" I had an inkling that the fight he was inviting me to was to stand up for the rights of our homeowners community against a corrupt HOA board. Although I knew it was a cause worth fighting for, I also had an idea that benevolence work (coming alongside people in the hardest seasons of their lives) would be no walk in the park. Honestly, I didn't want to fight at work and at home. So I'd moved.

As I started to consider moving back to our condo under the redwood trees, next to the river and the pool, I invited the Holy Spirit to help me discern.

Last month, the staff of our church took a beautiful three day retreat to the woods of Santa Rosa, enjoying a mountaintop resort with an infinity pool and all the good food. It was a time to enter into contemplation and meditation, and rest from the diligent work of ministry. One of the days, a kayaking activity was scheduled. I I had originally planned on going, but I felt the Holy Spirit's prompting: "Stay back with me."

I took my journal and Bible out next to the pool, and the Lord gave me a word from scripture which confirmed the prompting I was feeling in my heart. I burst into tears and then laughter at the relief of being seen, right where I was, and my needs acknowledged. He was even so kind to whisper, "You can move home if you want."

So after giving it a few more weeks of discernment and prayer, of inviting God into the process, I knew the decision I wanted to make: I wanted to move home to our cozy condo under the redwood trees, with neighbors I know and access to the cafes, coast, and winery we love.

The Lord assured me that the things I was worried about, the fear-based thoughts which had originally driven me away, were non applicable, and that he would be with me in the fight. That "my leaves would always be green." Jeremiah 17:8.

So, I took a deep breath, and asked a few key people in my community, whose wisdom I trust, what they thought.

"I feel that it's your choice," whispered my new work friend Meg, fellow forty-something dog mama, when I confided in her later that day at staff retreat. "God won't be disappointed either way."

"I don't think it's crazy at all," advised my mom. "It sounds like you are prayerfully discerning."

Deep inside, that heart intuition which has always guided my life decisions, the part which told me to move to New York, that I would love it; to take a risk on grad school in Seattle; the part that has guided me into every good thing in my life; that intuition had already given me my answer.

My late boyfriend, Brandon, taught me a really beautiful life lesson: "It's okay to pivot, when you need to." Not for the last time am I so very grateful for the kindness and wisdom of that man.

In mid June, we moved home. And now I live a delightful life of waking up in place I love, taking a daily mini adventure of a commute on a ferry, commuting to a role I was especially prepared for.

Thanks be to God!