I've said it before, but it bears repeating. Goodbyes are hard. They aren't easy. And that could be for any number of reasons. I love the sentiment by Dr. Seuss, "Don't cry because it's over, be happy because it happened.” Yes, I am deeply grateful that God has blessed me with friendships, but when I don't get to control how long those friendships last, how frequent the communication happens, or even how united the ideology is, it can feel like a huge let down when it's time to say goodbye. I think the goodbye feels like an inward raging against the brokenness of this world. The first goodbye in recorded human history was the goodbye Adam and Eve had to say to the Garden. To being in God's presence. We were made for connection and community and it is God's design for humans and for his church. As Sheila Atchley recently wrote, "It does little good to proclaim personal salvation without moving into tangible shared community."
And yet, I've come to realize that most of our lives is a series of goodbyes. With the natural progression from childhood to adulthood, we say goodbye every year to teachers, we say goodbye to a familiar campus to move on to the next one, we may say goodbye to neighbors as they move away or we do ourselves. Living in a military city, I have said more goodbyes than I count. And it still doesn't get any easier. And like most things in this world, we hold the tension of pain and grief with gratitude and joy.
The move for some might mean a job promotion, a long awaited job change, or even closing the distance between family members. But what about those that don't move? At the age of 42, I have lived in all of three houses my entire life. So, I have not done a lot leaving/ moving, but rather I have been the one staying. To stay and smile (or cry) and say, "We're so happy for you!" can feel hollow at best. To say, "We'll miss you," can leave you vulnerable and feeling fragile. The hard goodbye leaves me feeling bereft, disoriented, and grief stricken when I'm the one staying.
It feels like "they" (those who are moving on) are just getting on with their lives or starting a new adventure, leaving you behind. And somehow you are supposed to keep going with yours. That is the tension that I hate. The sucker punch that never gets easier. And in that tangled mess of leaving, I have experienced everything from normalcy up until the move, to redoubled efforts to spend every available moment soaking up the goodness of friendship, to even radio silence (phone calls not returned, emails not answered, and texts not responded to). I understand withdrawing is a defense mechanism, but truthfully it's a damaging one. Instead of "ripping off a Band-Aid" (cutting off communication early), it feels more like a bridge burning. It's hurtful to the people who did life with you, who opened their hearts and their home to you.
So what is there to do? My answer is nothing. I will keep opening my bruised heart. I will keep making space and room at the table. And I will keep saying the hard goodbye. I know somehow this cycle that is stuck on "wash, rinse, repeat" is moving me towards a dependence on the One who never leaves us or forsakes us. An utter neediness for friendship from the One who knows all the ugly parts of me and loves me still. With an eternal perspective, goodbyes are not forever. They are a sort of "See you later."
Comments