This has been a season of goodbyes. It
started, as it often does, with a graduation. Some of my friends were
seniors in college this year, and the beginning of May brought their
time in the area to an accomplished close. Summer is also travel
season, and it brings several dear friends and family into town –
and then right back out. Life itself brings with it continuous,
annoyingly reliable change, and it has moved some dear friends
further away than I would like. Most unwelcome of all was the
extraction of my “baby” brother from my local life, as he is
fully engaged in the process of striking out on his own as a
fully-educated, extremely talented adult. (I am excruciatingly proud
of him – I only wish I could be proud from less than 5 hours away.)
I hate goodbyes. They signify the
absolute worst kind of change – the kind of change that hinders my
relationships. I am extremely fond of my relationships, and fonder
still of the people inside them. I love regular face time with my
people – even though “regular” ranges from semi-monthly to
several times a week. The absolute biggest disaster – the force
most capable of upending my life – is that which puts those I see
regularly far enough away that this becomes impossible. (I know I am
not alone in this sentiment.)
And yet they continue. Time after time,
month after month, year after year, people leave. And each farewell
stings just a little bit more – each loss is placed on a growing
pile of similar losses, some still tender because they have not yet
had time to heal. As time passes, I find myself tempted to give in to
the bitterness that stalks my heart. I have grown so tired of these
goodbyes that when I learned of the most recent departure, there was
a whisper deep in my heart that said, “Of course he's leaving –
everyone leaves.” It was the desperate cry of a hurting heart that
wants, more than anything, never to hurt again. The pain was eager to
harden my heart to those I love most, refusing to let them close
enough to hurt me when they – inevitably – leave.
For the briefest moment, I considered
it. But then, without a second thought, I cast it away forever, for I
realized that, despite how great this pain may be, the joy brought by
the closeness and dearness of these relationships is far greater.
More importantly, I think it's time for
me to have a little more faith – not in the whole of humanity, not
even in the “goodness” of those I love – but in the God who
gave them to me, the God who takes them away. It is when I begin to
think of these people as mine and of my happiness as pivotal that
everything comes unraveled. Instead, it is time for me to realize
that God has a plan for something bigger than my relational
satisfaction, and He intends to use these wonderful people I dearly
love to enact it. It is time for me to trust in God to take care of
me, even when it appears as if He is taking away those who made me
feel most cared-for, and to hope that, perhaps, He may yet let me keep
some of them. Even amidst the goodbyes, it is time for me to make new friends, to deepen
the friendships I have, and to invest myself entirely in those around
me, no matter how long they may remain nearby.
“We
shall draw nearer to God, not by trying
to avoid the sufferings inherent in all loves, but by accepting them
and offering them to Him; throwing away all defensive armour. If our
hearts need to be broken, and if He chooses this as the way in which
they should break, so be it.” – C.S. Lewis, The
Four Loves
There
are two dear friends – one near, one very far away – who have
helped me cope with this season of goodbyes, along with many others
who keep the lonelies away. To you I owe a great chunk of my current
sanity. Thank you. Of course, without the constancy of my Almighty
Creator, Redeemer, and Friend, I would be but a tear-drenched heap on
the floor. It is You I need close to me, it is Your face I must see each day, and
it is only You who will never leave me for something better.
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