moving.

There's some phrase about life being 10% what happens to you and 90% what your response is.

In the middle school group that I work in I have 3 students who are on the verge of moving. Their responses, even though they're all the same age, are as far apart as you could possibly get.

Gladys* (shock, that's not her real name) is terrified. She's been moving her entire life. And she can't imagine the thought of moving again. She feels like she finally made a friend. One who loves her for who she is. Who really just likes her. And the idea of leaving that behind is absolutely paralyzing.

Pauline* is angry. She's never moved. She's the "big dog" in her school. The popular kid who has never had to try at anything. She's built a reputation for being a "bad kid" who doesn't care what anyone else thinks about. She's got a natural charisma that makes her a natural leader. But when you get her alone... she doesn't want to leave. Even at 11 she realizes this means she'll walk into a world with already established relationships and pecking orders. She's not the queen anymore.

Jenevieve* is ready. She's moving to Kenya. A different country. A different culture. A different life. She's got good friends here that she'll miss. She'll miss doing gymnastics at a high-end gym. But she can't wait. She's 12. She's got what the other two girls are missing... hope. Hope that even in another world... she'll have friends and family and God. And she's along for the ride.

I'm not planning on moving anytime soon, but as change comes in my  life, I only hope that I can handle it with half as much grace as this 12-year old student. She walks ahead with semi-reckless abandon, remembering what is behind, but considering what is ahead.With great anticipation. 

Because, sometimes... you have to move.