Starts With Goodbye

Over the past several weeks, I've had to face the first goodbyes. You know, complete with the awkward final hugs and I'll miss you's and slow tears in the car afterward. It's been much harder than I realized it could be. I'm not one who typically gets homesick or terribly nostalgic. I don't cry a lot. I don't get too attached to any particular place; I keep the I'm-going-to-be-moving-on-from-here attitude.

All of that -- that part of my personality, or what I thought my personality was -- is disintegrating. All of a sudden, I'm homesick for a whole lot of people who've quietly stood by me and held me up as I tried to run through the world as quickly as the wind. I know I haven't given some the regard they deserve, and others, well, I'm not so sure I remember what it is to live without them anymore.



It's so strange to be moving out of Virginia and shipping off to the Czech Republic in the year 2009 because I know all of these people who have such a permanent place in my heart are just a Facebook post, a Skype call, or even a snail mail letter away. But even now, before I've even moved, simply looking toward the thousands of miles that will separate us already makes my heart ache. I'm tearing up several times a day over so many people I've fallen in love with -- all those people I want to come with me, to experience my adventures, to let me experience theirs.

You all know who you are. My family. My TYMPers. The ECC. My sorority sisters. Every Jubo and Jubalum I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. The College Guides. My Young Life family. And so many others from every chance meeting you can think of. You are so precious to me. You are what makes this so hard.

"'Anyone who loves his father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; anyone who loves his son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; and anyone who does not take his cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.'" (Matthew 10:37-29)

Lately I've been asked "when do you leave on your trip?" quite a bit. I've paid attention to this question because my move, my work in a Prague high school, my decision to let God lead me to Europe doesn't seem to me like a "trip" at all. I have no idea how long I'll be there, or where God might lead me in a year or two years or ten. All I know right now is how God wants to use me during this upcoming school year, and that I need to adopt an attitude of permanence in my pursuit of Christ. I think that attitude is what is making these goodbyes so much more difficult -- because I don't know when I will be back to all the places I've been, or if I'll be seeing all my favorite people in the near future or never again.

It is most likely the most scary, sobering, melancholy thing I've yet faced. I mourn the friendships I'm leaving behind and my inability to experience daily life with them very soon in the future. I already miss their laughs, and inside jokes, and spontaneous crazy adventures. I miss sleeping on their couches, singing Journey songs and show tunes with them, having them knock randomly on my door in the middle of the night.

But somewhere deep down, I know pursuing Jesus in this way must also be so much more hopeful than is the sadness of leaving these people behind. And, it is true I have so much to look forward to: new friendships with my coworkers and students and teammates, a life in a beautiful country rich in history, and the sustaining knowledge that I've shown to a most precious Creator (and realized for myself!) that even the best things in life can't hold a candle to His glory or wonder.

...it's just that, as much as I want it to and hope is still will, all of that hasn't lessened the hurt of this part of the journey. So in the meantime, until the hurt subsides, I glue myself to the photographs and listen to sappy songs and keep on telling Jesus I am so thankful He's with me no matter where I go.