The thing about endings is that it usually is also the beginning of two somethings, except we only get to be a part of one something and not the other.
That. Sucks.
This past week, I had the privilege of riding along with my friend Amanda as she moved out to Silverthorne, Colorado. I didn't really do anything to make the ride any easier, especially considering I took 5 naps along the 20 hour drive.
But for me, I felt privileged that I didn't just get to close her Anderson chapter with her. I got to watch her start her Silverthorne chapter.
That. Is a privilege.
A few years ago, God and I had a pretty nasty conversation about endings. It went something along the lines of, "God, you told me to feed your sheep. So why the hell does this have to end now when I don't even feel like I've done anything significant with the feeding?" And his only response was, "My dear child, I told you to feed my sheep. But they are MY sheep." Of course I was pissed.
It wasn't so much that I would miss those relationships. No, I had learnt by then that relationships don't just end because physical proximity changes. It was that I felt like I needed to be sure they were taken care of. Ha! The audacity to think that I was of that much significance in the perspective of Kingdom work that if I wasn't around, the work wouldn't get done.
But it wasn't just that. It was that with that ending meant that I can only be a part of one of the new somethings now. I can watch the other something from the sidelines, but that other something will not be as deeply woven into the tapestry of my own story.
And that, is what hurts the most.
Thinking back to this past week of slowly saying goodbye to Amanda, not knowing when or where we'll ever see each other again, I grief.
I grief not the ending of a friendship, but the ending of the physical proximity where I can throw a greasy Lemon Drop fry stained with ketchup, Frank's hot sauce and completely covered with black pepper at her.
I grief not the ending of the conversations that we started, but the ending of the ability to offer a physical place of refuge while the other storms of life are brewing.
But at the same time, I celebrate.
I celebrate that for a few days, I got to see the possibilities of the new something that I will not get to be a part of.
I celebrate life, hope and good endings.
And I can only hope that with all the endings that are about to happen within the next few short months as I prepare to head south (and WAY beyond the Mason-Dixon line) to the place called Auckland, New Zealand, I will learn to keep grieving but also keep celebrating all these endings and beginnings.
So you see, the thing about endings is that it usually is also the beginning of two somethings, except we only get to be a part of one something and not the other.
But maybe, it's not so bad after all...
That. Sucks.
This past week, I had the privilege of riding along with my friend Amanda as she moved out to Silverthorne, Colorado. I didn't really do anything to make the ride any easier, especially considering I took 5 naps along the 20 hour drive.
But for me, I felt privileged that I didn't just get to close her Anderson chapter with her. I got to watch her start her Silverthorne chapter.
That. Is a privilege.
A few years ago, God and I had a pretty nasty conversation about endings. It went something along the lines of, "God, you told me to feed your sheep. So why the hell does this have to end now when I don't even feel like I've done anything significant with the feeding?" And his only response was, "My dear child, I told you to feed my sheep. But they are MY sheep." Of course I was pissed.
It wasn't so much that I would miss those relationships. No, I had learnt by then that relationships don't just end because physical proximity changes. It was that I felt like I needed to be sure they were taken care of. Ha! The audacity to think that I was of that much significance in the perspective of Kingdom work that if I wasn't around, the work wouldn't get done.
But it wasn't just that. It was that with that ending meant that I can only be a part of one of the new somethings now. I can watch the other something from the sidelines, but that other something will not be as deeply woven into the tapestry of my own story.
And that, is what hurts the most.
Thinking back to this past week of slowly saying goodbye to Amanda, not knowing when or where we'll ever see each other again, I grief.
I grief not the ending of a friendship, but the ending of the physical proximity where I can throw a greasy Lemon Drop fry stained with ketchup, Frank's hot sauce and completely covered with black pepper at her.
I grief not the ending of the conversations that we started, but the ending of the ability to offer a physical place of refuge while the other storms of life are brewing.
But at the same time, I celebrate.
I celebrate that for a few days, I got to see the possibilities of the new something that I will not get to be a part of.
I celebrate life, hope and good endings.
And I can only hope that with all the endings that are about to happen within the next few short months as I prepare to head south (and WAY beyond the Mason-Dixon line) to the place called Auckland, New Zealand, I will learn to keep grieving but also keep celebrating all these endings and beginnings.
So you see, the thing about endings is that it usually is also the beginning of two somethings, except we only get to be a part of one something and not the other.
But maybe, it's not so bad after all...
I can't wait to welcome you into the life down here at this place called Auckland and celebrate with you. I know what you mean. Saying good-bye is always grieving and celebrating. This is what makes us so human and relationships so special. You are brave that you dare to help Amanda transition into her new life. And brave that you dare to come down to Auckland. I hope I can help you transitioning into this new part of your life.
ReplyDeleteI know this feeling--for me, life has often felt more like one big goodbye...but, then, if we didn't have the goodbyes it would mean that we never had the hellos. Not willing to give up the hellos, so I must accept the goodbyes....
ReplyDeleteremembering that it is only distance that separates us and nothing that really matters and that one day, we'll all sit down at the same table and never have to say goodbye again.
Peace,
Arthur
Go Blues.
ReplyDelete