Hard Goodbyes but Looking for Blessing

     Brad and I take turns holding Judah one last time as Samuel and Emily check their luggage and attend to last minute details. Too soon we share hugs all around, our wistful smiles hidden behind COVID mandated masks. The escalator carries them up and away, baby on hip, backpacks slung over shoulders, Brad and I standing on tip toe to catch a final glimpse as they snake through the security line. We turn and plod, silent and tearful, back to the empty van. 

     Goodbyes hurt. There is nothing fun about being apart from a loved one—a grown-way-too-fast son living several states away, a friend experiencing job relocation, a parent or sibling departing to be with the Lord while we are left grieving and sad. We mourn and attempt to move forward, missing the loved one’s presence in our ordinary days.

     Six years ago, we said goodbye to Samuel for the first time. He left for boot camp and a hazardous occupation. We dreaded the moment, held on as long as we could, then commissioned him into God’s safe keeping and let go. The rending left a gaping wound, and eventually a permanent scar. Goodbyes leave their mark.

     But in God’s graciousness, I can now look back and see blessing that came from that painful goodbye. Samuel has grown and matured into an incredible young man. He has given us a precious daughter-in-law and grandson. His mother-in-law is now my dear friend. So many wonderful hellos have come about as a result of that initial separation. That gives us even more goodbyes to endure, but we are richer for the relationships gained and the new loved ones added to our hearts. 

     I never prefer the parting. I want all my sweet ones nearby. As for Samuel and Emily, I know it will only get harder for them to travel this way—more expensive, more little heads to corral, more responsibilities keeping them home. And there will still be the goodbyes, no matter how wonderful the visit. 

     One day there will be no more separation and no more goodbyes. We will all be safe at home—reveling in the never-ending hellos. Until then, I will endure the sting of separation and the loneliness of longing, ever thankful for the sweet connections and cherished moments the Lord gives us to be together. 

And I will keep my eyes open for the blessings.