Since I realized we were moving in January, I have
experienced excitement, curiosity, apprehension, and even some fear. None of those things surprised me. What I was completely unprepared for was the
overwhelming sense of loss I am experiencing as the move draws very close. For a long time, my life has been pretty
secure and predictable. Married to the
same man for 33 years. Being part of
the same church for almost 20 years.
Living in the same house almost 19 years. All at once, everything is changing. Well, not quite everything.
The marriage isn’t changing, but everything else is. When I’ve moved in the past, I’ve had a
house to move into before I moved out of the one I was living in. That is not the case with this move. One of the most difficult parts is my
church. Yesterday I pulled into a
parking place at church, and told the kids to go inside, and I’d be there in a
minute. I cried. I sat in my van and cried. I understand that the church is not a
building. It is the people. The body of Christ, of which I am a
part. But I love these people, who
gather in this building, and serve and worship and laugh and cry and grieve and
love and give, together. Each time I
walk into that building, it gets more difficult. Next Sunday we will be sharing with them for a few minutes about
what they have meant to us, and where we feel God leading us. And I will cry, no doubt. Not in my van, but in front of all these
people I love. It’s a good thing Ken
will be there to talk. He is grieving
these losses just as I am, but he holds it together better than I do.
Amber & I will be the first to go, probably leaving on
the 26th of July. I have a
job interview in Williston the following week.
This is really happening.
These words give me comfort:
He is no
fool who gives up what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose
Jim Elliot
As I leave those I love so much, including some of my
children and my sweet granddaughter, I must keep my eyes on the prize. That’s the only way I can do this.
