As I watched "The Biggest Loser" season finale tonight, I found myself thinking about transformation. I am not a regular follower of this show, but tonight my eyes welled up with tears as I saw a 63 yr. old man named Jerry. Jerry was watching a video of his former self - almost 370 lbs., inflicted with diabetes and high blood pressure, gasping for breath during his first workout, fainting, and needing to be taken to the hospital. His comment after the clip finished was "I don't know that man anymore. That man is gone." Now over 140 lbs. lighter, Jerry doesn't have diabetes anyone, Jerry doesn't gasp walking up the stairs, Jerry is able to play with his grandchildren and care for his wife. Jerry has been transformed.
Transformation on the outside is easy to see. But what about inward transformation? How does transformation happen? Am I the same girl who moved to Seattle almost a year ago? I probably look about the same, but inside I feel different. It happened subtly and slowly, but somewhere in the midst of working at an arts college, moving in with four of my best friends, and sharing Seattle life with the man of my dreams, I have changed.
In some ways, transformation comes with grief - the knowledge that I will never again be who I was. Jason and I went back to Sioux Falls about a week ago and I felt some of that grief. Sadness for dear friends left behind and familiarity in so many ways, yet not the familiarity of home. Life has changed. We can't go back. But like Jerry, I don't know that girl anymore. That girl is gone. Transformation means believing in a God who can change my mind, heart, and soul as much as losing 100 lbs. changed the lives of the "Biggest Loser" participants. Transformation means appreciating the past by embracing the future. Transformation means trusting that anything is possible in this city that I have come to call home. Transformation can be subtle or dramatic, but the result is the same. We will never be the same.
