Today I received a message from a retired attorney I admire — not because of what he practiced, but because of his life, his home, his wife, their peace. I could see at 81 what he had worked for all his life and it was a peace of life and clarity of thought. It is beautiful and something I have desired for myself and have tasted. It is a beautiful life.
He wrote:
> “Good evening, John. Several times today, your situation kept bouncing into my head. You were faced with having to make a decision you did not want to make, liking neither of the choices. From your earlier life, I am sure you have said to others: ‘The moment of transition is the hardest.’ Whatever choice you made, I do hope you feel better having made the decision. No need to reply. I am just waiting for Sandy to call me to dinner.”
— Emerson
He wasn’t talking about legal strategy. He was speaking about a decision — one that doesn’t feel good, but still has to be made. And he was reminding me that I’ve stood in front of others and told them when it was time to change. But also honoring me, and acknowledging my earlier life.
Every since the confusion of COVID my life has been out of order and I have fought to bring it back. This is a moment of transition, the moment I’ve been wishing for, and I don’t like the decisions before me but Mr. Emerson knew this was the time of transition for me.
The Decision I Didn’t Want.
No one wants to make hard decisions, but growth demands it sometimes. Sometimes those decisions are between things better of which are desirable. Dave knew I was in this crux, and the calmness of the message reassured me that it was right to make if I desired to return to the peaceful life I once lived.
The Hardest Transition
Dave said something that stuck with me: “The moment of transition is the hardest.”
He’s right.
What I’m learning is that this moment — this reckoning — doesn’t define who I am. my decisions though difficult do.
Like a preacher might say: the transition is the hardest…Making the decision … But the voice leads to peace and it is easier from there. The process of changing is a restoration.
I Knew What I Used to Tell Others
There was a time when I was the one telling others:
Dave’s message reminded me — he knew I had said those things before. Now he was saying them to me.
This isn’t my legacy.
It’s not the headline on my life. It’s a chapter — one that has to be dealt with, owned. This is a life lesson, and difficult decisions make the character of endurance.
What matters now is what I do next. How I rebuild. How I change. And how I return to the calm and dignity that people like Dave — and other remember me to be — still believe I can walk in again.
“For he beholdeth himself in a glass… and forgetteth what manner of man he was.” (James 1:24)
Dave reminded me.
He saw the storm I walked through, and he still spoke to the man I’ve been. Now, I have to walk like someone who remembers. But the transition is the hardest.
