Goodbyes

Last week we vacationed with all of Jordan's family - all 17 of us (including 7 kids under 7!) together at the beach under a single roof.  It was wonderful!

On the last day I felt grumpy.  At first I thought it was because Elias had been up several times in the night and I was tired.  Then I thought that maybe it was vacation blues; I wasn't ready for our time at the beach to end.  It wasn't until later that night that I realized what was really going on when Jordan walked into our room after putting Judah to bed.

"I'm sad," he said.  "I don't want to say goodbye."

And then I cried.

Eight months ago we said goodbye to France.

We said goodbye to the city we'd come to love, the apartment we'd come to call home, our church and friends we'd come to call family.  We said goodbye to our favorite café and waffle shop; we said goodbye to "our" lake.  We said goodbye to all of our stuff - beds, couch, bikes, dishes, games, toys, framed photos, books, clothes and shoes, our car....

While in Lesvos we said countless goodbyes to refugees and volunteers alike.  Though we were only on the island for 2 months, that was considered long-term as visas in Greece are next to impossible to acquire.  While the work there was intense and often heart-wrenching, the hardest part of serving on Lesvos was the lack of community.  Just when we'd connect with someone, it was time for them to leave.

During our pre-field training we had been warned about the lifestyle of hellos and goodbyes.  We were even led through a grieving exercise, recognizing that not all grief is related to tragedy, but rather grief is connected to any kind of loss for any reason.  (Jordan also worked through a lot of this in one of his seminary classes last semester.)

But no amount of training can truly prepare you for the emotional toll caused by continual goodbyes.

We arrived in the USA in time for Christmas.  We were greeted by friends - and said goodbye to them two days later.  We spent the holidays with our families - and said goodbye to them, too.  We've visited friends and family and supporters in CA, CO, PA and NC.  Each time we go to see someone we tell Judah that we're going to see "new friends" but after a few hours we have to say goodbye, often unsure of when we will see them again.  God answered my prayers for an adaptable child when He created Judah, but even he, at nearly 2 years old, is feeling the weight of the goodbyes.  We've noticed that he's become more clingy, as if he's afraid that we are going to leave him, too.

I don't write this post looking for sympathy; I write this post for myself, to process. I write to explain just a little bit of what we're experiencing right now, half-way through our year-long HMA; to explain why we don't necessarily force our son to say hello and goodbye to strangers or to stay in the church nursery; to explain why our time in the USA, while a blessing in so many ways, is not all just fun and easy.

There are a lot of good things about our lifestyle of ministry, but the constant hellos and goodbyes is not one of them.