Since I’ve been pretty transparent about things these past two years on the blog (two years—can you believe it?), and you’ve patiently listened, read the latest posts, and patted my hand with a loving “it’ll be okay, Brenda” or smacked me upside the head with a “straighten up, Brenda,” I’ll let you in on a secret today.

Moving was easier when I was younger. I’m not 100 percent certain of the reason for that, but a few possible explanations come to mind:

1. We get more set in our ways as we age; any change to the “comfortable” elements wreaks havoc on our minds.

2. We have most likely established our “earned” and true friendships by the time we hit our middle years. Letting new people into the inner circle of our lives is, at times, quite unsettling.

3. We bring our filters with us into our new environment, and these filters often contradict the “local filters.” For example: Did the people in our former setting demonstrate their emotions with reserve? Then we are likely to be quite put off by someone in our new location being overly demonstrative with their emotions; therefore, we shy away from the uncomfortable possibility that we might be expected to do the same.

4. We are used to the “NORM!” response, and we feel “unwelcome” when we don’t receive it. (Pardon the reference to the TV show Cheers, but it pictures it perfectly. In the fictitious local pub, Cheers, one particularly frequent patron was well-liked and well-known to the point that everyone in the pub called out his name as he entered!) Perhaps we’ve gone from being the big fish in our little pond to being the new, little fish in a very big pond. Rather than feel “unpopular,” we choose to become something of a social recluse and blame everyone in the new setting for not being very nice to us  (i.e., not meeting the expectations to which we have become accustomed)!

Whatever the reason or reasons may be, it’s just harder to move as you age. Especially when you do it alone. Now, don’t get upset with me, my dear FWMs (Friends with Mates). But I truly believe it’s trickier for singles—especially older ones. Yes, a move is hard even if you’re one of the FWMs, but you have someone to sit next to and be new with in church; you have someone to accept you while you’re waiting for the locals to do the same; and you have someone to stand with you as you awkwardly wait in line—the wrong one, it turns out—to sign up for the new membership class at church.

No, I’m not whining. Honest. Okay, sort of.

But then, just as you’re fighting back a tear of self-pity, sadness, and homesickness as you mindlessly sing the songs in church that morning…

WAIT! Why am I speaking in second person? Transparency isn’t all-inclusive. It’s me. Sharing my life. So let’s try that again:

But then, as I was fighting back a tear of self-pity, sadness, and homesickness as I mindlessly sang the songs in church this morning, the Spirit pricked me awake and used the next line of the song so pointedly that I was pretty certain the “subliminal message” on the screen was clear for all in the congregation to see: “Brenda Strohbehn, this one’s for you!” (Did anyone else see that neon orange message behind the words?) In essence, the song spoke of His being more than enough; therefore, He gets all of me.

Ouch. The needed prick from God was also a painful reminder of my selfishness. He brought me here. I’ve lived here (officially) for three weeks. So I need to remember that any destination (any friendship) worth reaching is worth the time it takes to get there.

With my "new/old" friend Lydia at her belated birthday celebration/craft day yesterday.

But I can’t stop this blog post there. (Even though that is a good stopping place!) Because I have already made an amazing friend here in Indiana, and to not include that element after all my whining about being “alone” and seemingly “friendless” would be just plain wrong. I actually “met” her through this blog (as a friend of my mother’s, she graciously read a post when referred by my mom a few years back), and then I met her kindred-spirit personality by becoming her friend on Facebook, and then I met her and her dear husband in person recently on her birthday (which she shares with my mother). This sweet new friend LOVES that I don’t post photos on my blog, but that I get straight to the point. But today, I just HAVE to post a photo of the two of us at her home yesterday. She welcomed me with open arms and an open heart, and I already truly count her as a friend! So sweet Lydia, even though you are a “crazy chicken lady” (she raises chickens like pets; me? I’m literally freaked out by chickens—true story), and even though you won’t like that I posted this, I think you are beautiful inside and out, and I thank you for already being the kind of friend I could share my secrets with!

So, I guess I really am getting settled. But I will diligently and DELIBERATELY (my word for 2014!) remember that my God is more than enough: He’s more than my location; more than my longings; more than my needs; more than my desires; more than my friendships; more than my weakness; more than my strengths—He’s more. And because of that, He gets all of me.