When You Have To Say Goodbye
You know, it's funny. I can vividly remember standing on that stage singing a Muppets song with a group of high school seniors who I had grown-up loving and I vividly remember trying not to cry and being absolutely convinced that I would never have moments as happy and memorable as the ones I had with them with anyone else. I remember the final bow and staring at the audience, at a view I was so familiar with, and being silently horrified that it was over. I remember hating it. That moment when I had no choice but to say goodbye.
Two days ago I sat in a semi-circle in a room with a group of my best friends playing a game and laughing hysterically for two hours. And sometime in that moment that feeling flickered through my mind again like a haunting deja vu. That "how could there ever be moments this happy and sweet with anyone else" feeling, that "imminent doom is coming" feeling. That same desperation to hold onto something that was so quickly leaving and you find yourself simply powerless to stop it. Knowing that that moment is coming when you have no choice but to say goodbye.
It may seem strange to many that a group of 20 some people whom I've only known for almost nine months are that hard to let go of. But these are not ordinary people, these people have been there through the good and the bad, through the hilariousness of the moments when we're culturally doomed to fail at communicating, through the inside jokes and prank wars… sometimes they've been the only people within miles that speak English, sometimes the only people around me who love Jesus, the only people who understand my heart.
I've been absolutely frustrated with them one moment and then have not been able to imagine my life without them the next. Somewhere in the last nine months this group of people evolved from strangers to friends to family. It was gradual and a beautiful process and now here we all are, staring at a countdown that insensitively says that we have just over a week left, a countdown that sometimes feels like a ticking time bomb.
But this is one complex time bomb, because when it explodes we will find ourselves temporarily separated from this family but at the same time we'll find ourselves back with families that, in August, we could not imagine leaving, because how could anyone else understand us? It's a time bomb that makes you wonder sometimes if you're actually bipolar.
And that is the complicated thing about having to say goodbye. Because God is good and He never abandons or forgets us or our needs so in my heart I know that there is an enormous gift in goodbye, a massive opportunity, a vast spectrum of people who Jesus has prepared to walk into our lives after goodbye and say, "I have things to give to you, you have things to give to me, let's talk." And somehow these people evolve from strangers to friends to family and undoubtedly you will once again find yourself wondering how you're going to say goodbye when one of you moves across the country, or the world.
And yet, in that goodbye lies the promise of a new family member.
Isn't beautiful how Jesus knits the world together? How He understands the pain in goodbye but sees the promise in it? How He knows that there are people out there somewhere that have more to give you than the ones that you are with and that, even though it hurts, goodbye is the only way to get to them? How, if you really listen to Him, He is whispering in goodbye saying, "It's not over, your family isn't breaking apart, you just haven't met all of them yet."
I have a lot of families: my biological family, my CYT family, my "you-really-aren't-a-relative-but-you-definitely-are-more-than-a-friend-so-we'll-call-you-uncle-and-aunt-and-brother-and-sister" family, my high school family, my horse show family, my church family, my Nicaraguan family, my Thai family, my Honduran family, my South African family, and my immersion family.
They are very different but they all have this in common: they're family. And no matter where they are, they are still family. And as big as my family already is, it's not done growing yet. How do I know? Well, Jesus is telling me that, once again, it's time to say goodbye.
Time to tell part of my family that I'm off to visit the parts I haven't seen in awhile and that I'm off to find the family members I haven't met yet. I'm off to let Jesus change strangers to friends to family. I'm off to let Him use me in more people's lives and to receive the gifts that He has coming for me in the form of more brothers and sisters. I'm off to meet my college family, my Costa Rican family, and all the other families that are coming after that.
And I'm holding to the promise of joy and peace and happiness to be found in that moment when my whole family is in one place and we won't have to say goodbye anymore. But until then, there will be times when we have to say goodbye, because we have a whole lot of family members to meet and I for one want to meet as many as I can before the family reunion.
With that perspective, goodbye seems to make a lot more sense. If you look at it as a beginning and not an ending, then it holds a lot more promise. If you understand and trust that the Lord knows what He is doing and His desire is to lead you on the path He's planned out for your good, then goodbye becomes more tolerable. Because if you really believe Him, goodbye isn't actually a word. If you know the rules of family you know that goodbye is never final, that all goodbye really translates to is "see you later."
So then, when you have to say goodbye you really know that all God is doing is pointing you toward the next family because there are so many good gifts He has to give you; all you have to do is receive them and be patient enough to know that He'll protect and hold the ones you cannot be with until you can be with them all together again.
There is so much promise in goodbye.
love this nikki. praying for you as you transition. really glad we get to say hello before we have to say goodbye. so proud of you and the way you are trusting the lord – it’s encourages and challenges me.
love you sweet girl.
This is beautiful, Nikki … I love it. Thank you for sharing – I needed that reminder.
Nikki,
Isn’t it interesting that, in nine months, you and 20 others are ready to leave the “womb” of AIM and go out into the world as enthusiastic, ready-to-serve, eager-to-learn (maybe even newborn) Christians. Praise God for what He has accomplished in and through all of you.