What to do when the landscape changes
Have you noticed the landscape of life is always changing?
Certainty is one of the six main human core needs, so it’s no wonder we crave control. In fact, our brains run on certainty. It’s the reason we stay in situations and circumstances that no longer serve us far too long. Our amygdala feels most safe in certainty, so your brain will almost always default to what it already knows unless you intentionally choose to challenge the thought.
Ironically, uncertainty is also one of our needs. Personally, I prefer uncertainty of my choosing … like whether or not to spend $7.89 on a box of gluten & potatoe-free pasta that may or may not taste like dirt!
Threatened Certainty
6 years ago a massive storm swept through the area with gust up to 50mph. This blew a tree into the powerline, sparking a fire that would claim over 15,000 acres and 120 homes, nearly 80%, in the neighboring town. While the majority of our 147 acres of property was scarred, our home, outbuildings and hayshed stood unscathed as if a bubble had been placed directly over them.
Aerial image of the 2020 Malden Fire surrounding our home
It was a terrifying experience that left me with an odd sense of confidence. That day I realized I survived a fear that had created a low-level hum of anxiety every year when harvest rolled around. My fear was based in uncertainty - would we escape the fire? Would our home burn? If it did, what then?
We were grateful and blessed to have our bed to lay down in and our roof over our heads. And in the same breath, there was a lot of work to be done to clean up the damage. To say we felt overwhelmed was an understatement. The landscape literally changed. It smelled like smoke for over a month. We had hotspots popping up for days. The burned trees had to be logged leaving 3 huge slash piles that began to feel like pillar entrances to our driveway since we didn’t have enough snow or rain for years in winter to safely burn them.
But we survived. Not only that, but we slowly learned to live with the change in the landscape. Even appreciate the changes.
6 years later (almost exactly … 29 days shy of the 2020 fire anniversary) another wildfire once again threatened our home. This time burning only the West and South sides of our property. Thankfully our house, outbuildings, and hayshed were untouched. Again.
You would have been unsuccessful convincing me in 2020 that God did not have a hand in protecting our home. Now, I am even more convinced. Our home was in the direct line of fire and thanks to the tireless, hard-fought work of the firefighters we were able to come back and sleep under our own roof that very night.
White feather amongst the charred ground.
Considering we had lost 90% of the trees in the affected pastures, the damage is much less noticeable this time. I don’t have ash floating through my home, I’m not having to run outside every couple hours, shovel in hand, to put out hotspots. I can still take walks to the back with my dog without traipsing through burned ground. The smoke smell will dissipate in a couple weeks. All is well and good.
But I am noticing a new thought of uncertainty tugging at my conscience.
The old question of whether we will have a fire this year has been replaced with the thought, will this be our new normal? Will we anticipate impending fire each year and hope the house makes it through just one more fire? And truly, what is the magic number of fires our home can survive?
Because it no longer feels like a we could lose our home. It feels more like when will we lose our home?
The landscape - physically, mentally, emotionally - has changed. Again.
Taking back control of my thoughts
When I take a step back , I realize … the landscape of life is always changing.
It changes when we graduate and move out on our own.
It changes when we go from living on independently to living with a partner.
It changes when we have a baby or get a new job or move into a new home.
It changes when our kids go from toddlers to school age. And again when they hit Middle and High School.
It changes when our hormones begin to shift.
It changes when we go from a full house back to two after the kids are all launched.
The landscape is constantly changing.
The beauty of regrowth
Just as it does in nature.
How do we go about managing the constant shifts and feel any semblance of stability and certainty in an ever-changing landscape?
I certainly don’t have this worked out. I am in the middle of it with you and my guess is I will be working through this throughout the rest of my life.
Instead, I want to leave you with a few questions to guide you in connecting and grounding into the current landscape of your life and help you navigate the shifts as they come with just a little more grace. These are questions I am currently asking myself.
In what way can I trust myself more this week?
What do I miss about the old landscape, and can I recreate that feeling in a new way?
What am I holding onto (a memory, a feeling, a season) that is time to thank and release?
What could possibly be waiting in this new landscape that I am excited about?
What story is keeping me from truly seeing what new opportunities are coming my way?
Change and uncertainty is hard. I want to acknowledge that.
I also want to be honest in saying, it is a natural part of life. And a good one. I hope you can learn to embrace both the challenge of change and the excitement of new possibilities simultaneously.
Most importantly - you’re not alone. I am walking this path right along with you. I can hold both the discomfort of the uncertainty and the anticipation of it simultaneously.
Today I am choosing the thought that I can’t wait to see how beautiful this new landscape will be!
With love,
Caryn
