I sat in the living room today, with irrational tears streaming down my face, and put words to the thoughts that have been playing on repeat in my mind for far too long. Chad, patient as always, sat across from me and listened, as I tossed words into the atmosphere hoping they might bounce back to me with all the chaos removed.

I’m not sure who I am anymore. I can’t find her–the girl I once was. I miss the girl that used to write with abandon. The girl who who wasn’t afraid to break her heart wide open. The girl who didn’t consider whether her words were right or wrong, as long as they were true. I don’t know how to do this. Am I a photographer with a business or a mom with a blog? I mused all these things and more with all the drama that comes so naturally to me.

Chad listened as he always does, and threw my words back at me. You’re both. You’re a mom with a blog and a photographer with a business. You can be both.

It all seems so simple, but let’s face it, I am gifted at making the simple, complicated.

Back in July. I wrote this post. when I decided to merge the space that had been my “home” for six years with the space that had become my new home when I ventured into business. I felt so strong and confident when I wrote of the merging of these two worlds. My Chatter would not change, it would just be moved.

Easier said than done for a girl who plays a pretty mean game of tug of war with any sort of change that comes her way.

In truth, 2017 feels to me, to be as big and important and scary and confusing as 2005. In 2005 Chad and I awaited the birth of our first baby. At the time, we were filled with such a mix of excitement and fear. We were excited about having a baby to love and the growth of our family, but we were also fearful of the unknown. How would a baby change our marriage? How would a baby impact our daily lives? The unknown was so, well, unknown. And for me, unknown is synonymous with anxiety.

Fast forward 12 years and I feel a lot of those feelings again. After spending nearly 12 years caring for the daily needs of my little people, I am standing on the brink of big change. In the fall, I will have three kids in school and while many mama’s hold their breaths until they can celebrate this transition, I find myself reeling from the unknowns ahead.

As much as I want to play tug of war, I know it’s a game I can’t win. This year, life is changing and I’m afraid of the unknowns ahead.

What will it be like to have time again?
What possibilities lie ahead for my business?
How might time open up my heart to write?
Can I handle the quiet?
What will like be like without a sidekick? A shadow?

Often, I say to Chad, Certainly, God has a plan for me, right? 

While I trust that there is a plan, I don’t know it right now. Today, I feel as undone as the 2000 piece puzzle that is scattered on our kitchen table. There is a bit of a framework established, but the insides? Well, those are completely unfinished. That’s how I’m feeling right now. I’m feeling very unfinished. Over the next few weeks, piece by piece, we will place the pieces of the puzzle together and, in the end, we will have a finished product of which we can be proud. For me, I hope, that over the next several months and years, I will be able to piece together the various parts of me and find of voice that is strong and confident and secure.

But as puzzles go, I am also aware that a time comes when they are taken apart and a new puzzle is found. Maybe that’s it. Each season in life shapes us into a new finished product. Maybe it looks completely different than before or maybe, just maybe, the puzzle changes just a little in color or picture, while keeping it’s shape.

I don’t know what lies ahead, but I do know that the journey is important. I might not have wisdom for the ages, but writing here, I can leave a legacy for the three little lives who will experience a multitude of ups and downs as they walk through life. I want them to see that fear doesn’t have to be a roadblock, but in fact, it can be a bright shining light pointing toward the direction they should go. I’m finding my voice again, in this space, in the most honest way that I know how.

For now, I know that I am blessed to do this life with these people that I call my own. My little tribe that has taught me so much about what really matters in life. I believed it in the beginning and it will never change–our story is worth recording. . .