can't stop thinking about her

I still have a bottle of her perfume.  I snuck it away when I was cleaning out her house.  The first time I breathed it in it was like a punch to the gut because her presence overwhelmed me in a single inhale.  That was 14 years ago and that bottle has moved with me and survived every bathroom clean-out since. 

In the early days she was my shadow and her memory appeared around every corner in my mind.  As the years passed she slipped away only to return for occasional visits.  Now though, I am living in her home, just me and the kids.  And all of the sudden, my grandmother has slipped right back in and she colors my thoughts at least once a day.  I look outside and I see her hanging out clothes on the line, I walk into her used-to-be bedroom and remember the exact dimensions of her furniture, I look outside and think about how I would wait and wait to see her car come over the top of the hill. 

I think about my kids and my desire that they would have known her makes me ache.  I’m sure she’d leave candy on their pillowcases and she’d make them all their favorite meals.  She would hold their little hands while riding next to them in the back seat of the car and she would stroke their hair and murmur her love over them.  She would let them stay up past their bedtime and she would welcome them crawling into her bed early in the morning to talk about the day.  She would be their one constant, their safe place, their biggest champion.  Just like she was for me.

I was talking on the only phone in the bottom stairwell of my dorm at Westminster in July of 2000 when my mom asked if I was sitting down.  Then she tried the best she could to explain what leukemia meant and how the diagnosis had all happened so fast.  It had only been weeks before that I had been in her home, sharing dinner and talking about my upcoming study abroad trip.  She had mentioned that she was tired.  How does tired turn into leukemia in just a few weeks?  I came home from London and held her hand during lucid moments and moments where it was just me pouring my heart out to her, begging her to stay and then finally telling her goodbye, that she was free to go.  And so she did.  She left on September 24.  At her funeral we sang Precious Memories.  “Precious memories, how they linger.  How they ever flood my soul.  In the stillness, of the midnight, precious, sacred scenes unfold.”

 
Tonight I take out her perfume and I drink deep – I know it’s in vain, but for just a moment, if I close my eyes, it’s like my grandmother’s right here with me.  I walk into the kid’s room and I look at them asleep in their beds.  My heart wells up with a fierce and tender love for them.  A love that makes me go weak in the knees.  And then I realize that I have been loved in just.the.same.way.  And gratefulness floods my soul, for to have been loved like that must be one of life’s most precious, sacred gifts.

when goodbye isn't good enough

The past few months have been full of goodbyes.  After 10 years of being at Bosqueville Baptist Church, Brad accepted a position at McLean Baptist Church in McLean, Virginia.  Because my default is to avoid emotional complexities, I’ve survived the last couple of weeks by staying busy, which hasn’t been difficult considering the lengthy to-do list associated with a cross-country move.  The truth is that goodbyes are the worst and it’s just too painful to allow myself to feel all of them. 

The decision process to accept the invitation to McLean was so complex and so simple all at the same time.  Over the last couple of years Brad and I have prayed that we would be open to God’s leading in our lives, regardless of the timing or the location.  And all along we would have been content if the answer had been: BBC is the location and forever is the timing.  But, something in our spirits seemed to be whispering that there was a different answer.  And when it came, it felt easy to make the decision, and hard too, because we knew that to embrace a new life and a new congregation meant to let go of the one that had held us for so long. 

So, the past month has been full of goodbyes and I’ve realized the gross inadequacy of human words.  Because thank you and goodbye have kept rolling off my lips and each time, they smack of insufficiency and yet when I think about how to express what I really feel, I struggle in vain to come up with words that are worthy.

Is this even close to saying thanks?

Thank you BBC, for accepting us, as our 25 year old selves and not looking back.  We knew so little, but you were so kind and your graciousness was a covering over us.  Thank you for giving us the freedom to be ourselves and to find a bit of ourselves, too. 

Thank you for teaching us through your lives and your love.   So many faith lessons…I’ve learned through single moms about sacrifice and courage.  I’ve learned through Sunday School and AWANA leaders about endurance, patience and gentleness.  The youth have taught me that faith is not a destination but a constant journey.  The children have modeled authenticity to me as I've heard their small voices rising unfiltered to God in prayer, week after week during worship services.  I’ve learned countless lessons from the wisdom of the older generation; they’ve modeled a life worth striving after; they’ve given me an answer to the question of who I want to be when I grow up.  I’ve learned from the daring about risky faith and the struggles and rewards that come from passionately pursuing a vision from God.  I’ve learned from the heartbroken about what resilience and hope look like.  I’ve watched people serve unnoticed but faithfully, year after year, at a specific task or ministry – and they’ve unknowingly taught me humility and selflessness.  The misfits, those on the fringe, they’ve taught me that we all have our own story with God, that faith has many different colors and dimensions, which add to its beauty.  So many faith lessons...

At the end of the day, even more, at the end of 10 years, how do you really say goodbye?  Goodbye simply isn’t good enough.  It simply comes up too short.  And besides, I want to boycott goodbye because it implies a finality that I don’t think I believe in.  I started thinking about Jesus – how did handle goodbyes?  And I started thinking about Paul – he worked with so many churches, so how did he handle farewells?  As I started reading, I realized they didn’t say goodbye.  Jesus simply told his followers to go and do, and Paul’s favorite method of closure wasn’t saying goodbye, it was giving a blessing, speaking grace and peace over his readers.  This gives me great comfort.  Because it’s true – as Christians we are knit together.  The Bible says that we are grafted together – we can’t be separated because we are literally tethered to one another by the spirit of God.  Proverbs says that, ‘as iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another’.  The people at BBC have sharpened me over the past 10 years, literally changed me and left their mark on me, so I’ll always carry them with me.  All of us now move forward, to encounter different people who will challenge us, teach us, shape us, sharpen us in a new way.  And those people yet to come will also leave their mark on us and us with them. 

Brad and I’s last words in our last worship service are how I want to close our chapter at BBC.  Not with thank you and goodbye.  Those words offer some meaning, but not enough.  And while the following words aren’t perfect either, they do express my dreams for the people that I love and will always hold dear and who will always be a part of me.  So, for you, my family at BBC:

May the love of God surround you;
May Jesus Christ always stand before you with an invitation to know him and to follow him;
May the Spirit give you wisdom and grace for the journey,
May God be with each and all of us until we meet again.
To Him be all the praise and all the glory, forever and ever.  Amen.