Change Inexorable
*in· ex· o· ra· ble (i-ˈnek-sə-rə-bəl ); adjective: not to be persuaded, moved, or stopped :
RELENTLESS
When I was about four years old my parents changed out our rectangular dining room table for a round one. The reality of the situation was the rectangular table was from their newlywed days, and the round table was a gorgeous heirloom that they have used ever since for themselves and for the many guests who come through their doors. For me, in that moment of change, my world ended. I had a full-on meltdown—I believe sobbing and screaming were involved. Thankfully all I really remember is that I had the tantrum, not all of the details.
That moment is the one my parents always pointed back to to demonstrate my hatred for change. I don’t know if I leaned into it and made it an aspect of my identity, or if it was just a vivid visual example of parts of my existing personality. Whatever the case I’ve known change for a long time and sometimes I want to throw a tantrum about it, and sometimes I am happy to see it come. The one thing I know for sure is that change is inevitable. I also know that I can’t have a meltdown every time it happens. This isn’t just because tantrums are obnoxious for everyone in their vicinity, but also because it’s impossible to live life if everything grinds to a dramatic halt whenever change happens.
We have begun a new school year, and once again we are in the midst of change. Last weekend we settled our second daughter on campus for college, and on Monday our eldest returned there. In some ways, this is a minimal change for us. Both girls are attending LeTourneau University where my husband Kraig teaches, and it’s twenty minutes from home, so we see them regularly (I’m even taking an Elementary Hebrew class with our eldest this fall!).
Our situation is not like Kraig’s brother’s family, who drove down from Michigan last week to bring their eldest to LeTU for his first year of college—this is a huge change for them in many ways, and it’s going to take a lot of adjustment. However this is still a significant change for us—both of our girls are away now, and suddenly our house feels much emptier. Last night I set dinner at the small table in our kitchen because the dining room table looked too big for Kraig, me, and our son. I put comforters on the girls’ deserted beds just to give the room a little life, but that doesn’t help the bare look with all their bits and pieces missing. Perhaps the shift seems more dramatic because we had a few days of a full house with extended family here, but it is still a shift, and we’ll have to adjust.
I think I manage a lot of change nowadays by mentally separating myself from the emotions that change stirs up. It helps to know that change is the cause of my welling eyes, the knots in my stomach, and my aching head. Once I know what the trigger is for these symptoms, I can manage the effects better. This has been true for me with trips I take. I know now that the leaden feeling in my stomach in the days leading up to a trip is the fact that I am going to transfer from point A to point B, and I don’t know how that change will play out. I still feel the emotion and the stress, but I can move forward because I recognize it for what it is, and can set it to the side as I prepare. Also, after years of experiencing this, I also know that there will come a time when the shift will have finished and I’ll have adjusted to the “new normal.”
Sometimes the new thing is beautiful. In nature I love watching the seasons shift—even the subtle season changes here in East Texas are worth watching for and experiencing as they come. A few years ago we experienced a major change when we remodeled our kitchen, and I’ve never regretted that. In our family, I love to see how my kids are growing and who God is forming them into. I enjoy seeing what we’ve learned together, and what new things are opening before us. I’m thankful for the big changes I’ve experienced, like living in the Philippines from the time I was five to nine, or our family’s two years in Mexico before we came to Texas. Those changes were hard, but they also opened new beauties and experiences to us that we would never have known if we hadn’t gone through the change. Even the horrible change of death—the death of our daughter Keren, and more recently Kraig’s folks—those awful changes have given way to new spaces we didn’t know before, and ways to share in the lives of others who have gone through that kind of pain and change.
The other day I read the words to the old hymn “Abide with Me” and the second stanza
rang out with a needed reminder:
Swift to its close ebbs out life’s little day;
Earth’s joys grow dim, its glories pass away;
Change and decay in all around I see;
O thou who changest not, abide with me.
God is outside of time; he is outside of my timeline that is only change—it’s impossible for me to live, to even move, without change occurring. But God doesn’t change. He is the constant in my ever-shifting world, and really, when it comes down to it, the only reason I can accept change is because I know that he abides with me in the midst of it.
I’m writing this to encourage any of you who grapple with change, but I am also writing this for me, because I think I’ll need a lifetime of change before I grasp this truth. In fact, I doubt I’ll really see the whole beauty of it until I am face to face with he who does not change.
- Change Inexorable - August 27, 2025
This was so lovely.
I am also in the camp of disliking change. It is so reassuring that Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever. Thanks for sharing.