leavings are hard

(This post was originally written on December 11, 2011--then with all the moving details, it got shelved until today.)

This phrase, "leavings are hard," is one that our parish priest used in a message some time ago, and the words really stuck with my husband.  He's been repeating them to me these past few months as I've pondered the difficulty of leaving the beautiful community of friends we have found here in Greenville.  And in these last several days, these words have come into my mind again and again.

It first happened when I had to say goodbye to many sweet friends who also happened to be colleagues at the pediatric practice where I worked.  Although I love to think and reflect through my writing, public speaking is not my forte.  Nevertheless, I felt moved to say a few words at the lunch that was given on my last day of work, and found myself speaking through many, many tears as I said a collective goodbye to that special group of people.  It's a very unique and wonderful experience to work side-by-side with people who not only love what they do, but treat others (including and especially patients) just as they would treat a family member--with enthusiasm, respect, understanding, and extraordinary kindness.  It made for many enjoyable work days, and no matter how challenging or busy we were, it was such a privilege to be in that setting.

For the weeks since then, our days have been so full that I've not had a whole lot of opportunity to feel the impending loss of our move away from here.  While I've talked about how hard it will be to leave, the busyness of the holiday season (kids' choir recitals, church pageants, swim meets, family visits), along with the endless list of things to do in preparation for our move, have kept me distracted enough to hold it together...until recently.

Last Friday night was Joshua and Madison's final children's choir concert.  This community choir is led by our school's music teacher and her husband, and Joshua was invited to be part of it within weeks after our arrival here, with Madison joining on a year later.  My husband and I have delighted in watching our kids develop both an impressive knowledge of and keen appreciation for music through this experience.  They've learned not only a number of technical aspects of music, but have also developed much discipline, stage presence, and the important lessons of truly working as part of a larger team.  It has been one of their most treasured activities, and so to realize that it was coming to a close after their Christmas program was almost too much for me.  After the spectacular concert, I so wanted to capture a picture of the kids with their remarkably talented and giving directors--but I was simply in too much of a puddle to talk to anyone.  Luckily my husband swooped in and brought everyone together for me.  I don't think I'll ever look at this wonderful picture without remembering how grateful and emotional I felt as I captured it:

The following Thursday, I had to say goodbye to my favorite instructor at our wonderful YMCA.  I know, an exercise instructor hardly seems like someone who'd bring tears to my eyes, but nevertheless, when I handed her a prayer card and she promised to put it on her fridge and keep us in her prayers, I could hardly speak.  I was suddenly struck with the realization that even in the place where I exercise, I am surrounded by supportive and faithful people...and how many people can say that?

Last Sunday evening was the children's Christmas pageant at our Methodist church and it was the first chance I had to share our plans with a few of our friends there.  Just watching their reactions of surprise, and then understanding, and then, inevitably, sincere support along with some kind words about how much we will be missed--all these were enough to start the waterworks yet again.

This morning at our Catholic parish, I was again a bit of a mess.  Just talking to friends, old and new, saying goodbye to our dear Sister Catherine who was on her way out of town this week, beginning our goodbye to our beloved Father Pat--all these made for more emotions than anticipated early this morning.

And then we proceeded on with our normal Sunday morning routine, which includes heading over to our Methodist church for the kids' Sunday school and then to the worship service as a family.  What made today so difficult was the fact that we knew this would be our last Sunday there.  Our plans are to pack up the house and drive out of town next Sunday after Mass, so today was the (dreaded) day for real goodbyes to our sweet friends at St. Matthew's.  When I went to gather the kids after their Sunday school classes, I as met by a number of friends who asked if this was, in fact, our last day there.  And then the tears began for many of us.  A couple of my friends (who are the kids' teachers) stated that they couldn't even look at the kids because it made them so emotional to realize the difficulty of our separation.  Joshua's class gave him a really nice daily devotional, made even more special by the personal inscriptions by his teacher and each member of his class.  We hugged goodbyes with promises for penpal-ing, emailing, and even Skype-ing if possible!  The worship service wasn't much better for me--I was constantly reminded of how warmly we have been welcomed into the fold of this loving church community, the friends we have made and the support we have received on so many levels.  This is where my kids have grown to know so much about the Lord and His holy Word, where they've been nurtured through fun VBS experiences and solid Sunday school curricula, where we've made great friends, and where we, as a family, had our first opportunity for local missionary work--through our participation in the city-wide interfaith hospitality network that hosts homeless families at our church twice a year.  And as if all this weren't enough to be filling my mind, the closing hymn was none other than "Blest Be the Tie That Binds."  Suffice it to say that I was unable to get through the song.  So very many emotions, thanksgivings, and poignant realizations all at once.

I've often been asked why (and how) we choose to worship with two faith communities every Sunday.  That is a subject for another post on another day, but the bottom line is that my husband and I desire to share with our children the richness of both of our faith traditions.  This morning I realized that along with the ongoing growth along our journey of faith, one of the greatest blessings of our "double belonging" is that we have the gift of twice as many precious friends in Christ!

Blest be the tie that binds

Our hearts in Christian love;

The fellowship of kindred minds

Is like to that above.

Before our Father's throne

We pour our ardent prayers;

Our fears, our hopes, our aims, are one,

Our comforts and our cares.

We share our mutual woes,

Our mutual burdens bear;

And often for each other flows

The sympathizing tear.

When we asunder part,

It gives us inward pain;

But we shall still be joined in heart,

And hope to meet again.