The beginning of goodbye

The hardest part of stepping out in faith to move our family to Nepal isn’t the unknown, or the logistics, or the fear of the what ifs. The hardest part, for us, are the goodbyes.

We have a home here. Roots. Early in our married life, when Christopher was climbing the newspaper food chain one story at a time, we moved. We moved a lot. My Mamaw joked that our phone number was always written in pencil in her book. That was a wise choice; we didn’t stay anywhere too long. Life was always an adventure of finding new parks for the kids, meeting new friends, discovering new bagel shops.

We were good at it, this transient thing. We kept our stuff to a minimum, only planned one Christmas at a time, and rarely, if ever, pined for what we’d left behind. After all, we’d only known it for a short time… and a new home was right around the corner.

But this home, this place, these people… leaving Western Washington is like leaving a love affair mid-steam, stepping away from someone you are smitten with and wondering if and when the ties will be as strong when you return.

Our children have been raised here. Mary Hannah turned five years old on our drive to Washington, and while she has mental snapshots of life in other places, this green land is what has settled into her bones as home. Mathaus swears he can recall certain tidbits of his birthplace, but they would all be prior to his crossing the line of two and a half, so I am doubtful. And Jack? Although born in Georgia, he was whisked here, to the other side of the country, just months after birth.

Everyone else was born here. In this state. We laugh at this, because until Jack joined us, our roster of states didn’t have a single repeat. Now, we are a broken record. Missouri, Michigan, Nepal, North Carolina, Georgia, Georgia, Washington, Washington, Washington, Washington …

Washington.

Home.

Spring is here, and with it, the end of our last winter here, for now. The next few months will be filled with the transitions that are so familiar to families. Shopping the clearance sales for next winter’s coats.  The public school year will come to a close. Summer will open up, and plans will be made for the next rotation of the calendars. But we will not be signing on.

This week, the AWANA program that has been a huge part of our family for years will celebrate the end of another season. This small, warm community has meant so much to our family. Though not our home church, we have all been enveloped in friendship and mentorship through this program and through these people. Every member of our family has a role to play come Wednesday nights. Even Simon is involved– he grabs my knees as I lead Cubbies through another set of verses each week. These fellow workers have become friends. The rhythm of these nights has become a part of who we are.

And yet …

We are leaving. With the full support and encouragement of our AWANA friends behind us, we will stand on the stage Wednesday night and say our goodbyes. We will hug the sacrificial Christians who have poured their time into our children. We will promise to skype in some nights next year. I will, most likely, cry.

And then it will be over– the first of many, many going aways that we will endure these next few months.

The end is here. The beginning? It’s just around the corner.

I link up posts with these wonderful hosts: Diamonds in the Rough, Life in a Breakdown, Sunday Best Showcase, Teach Beside Me, Finishing Strong, Mama Moment Monday, The Modest Mom, Mama Moments Mondays, Monday’s Musings, Making Your Home Sing Monday, Playdates at the Wellspring, A Pinch of Joy, Titus 2sday, Titus 2 Tuesday, Growing Homemakers, Babies & Beyond, Teaching What is Good, Missional Call