final

Final is the last... the end. It's knowing there is no more... be it a chance, grade, or water droplets in a dry well -- it's when no more remain.

Final is scary.

Finishing is risky.

Goodbye is daunting.

Goodbye accepts change, and recognizes that it could be forever. In order to survive, it must believe that forever is survivable.

Goodbye induces chaos and inspires what-if's. Goodbye stirs memories and awakens fears. Goodbye strangles the throat and blurs the eyes.

Goodbye could quite possibly be measured against the plague.

In a short time I will bid a final goodbye to a part of my life I have been attempting to let go of for quite a while. The emotion within me that it still stirred by the situation is always frustrating and sometimes debilitating. I want to run far away to escape and stay close to hold on, both choices leaving me in a heap of emotion... and sleeping with a box of Kleenex in my bed for the first night in a very long time.

'Final' does not come with instructions, a guide on maneuvering through memories and wading through dreams gone by. 'Final' does not include a manual on managing tears or fears, on loving or letting go. 'Final' is open for interpretation.

But one thing is for sure: Final means moving on.

And I don't know how.

At one point I would have told you I'd give my right arm to never have to see this day, and at another I would have begged you for this very minute. Now that it's here, I can't even put one foot in front of the other. I don't know how to say goodbye.

I'm a saver -- If you sent it, I keep it. If I loved it, I store it. I reorganize to make space instead of tossing to clear out. Goodbye [to me] is never final because [[again] to me] I can always visit or mail or call or... something... and the continuation helps manage the separation.

Yet this goodbye must become final, even if I wouldn't desire it to be. No further expectation allowed.

This particular goodbye means bidding farewell to one of the biggest parts of my life and my heart. It's walking away from something that was once the most precious of all 'possessions', if I dare even label it so. It's choosing to let go of an idea that was once infinitely meaningful, and no longer trusting the support of something heavily leaned upon. It's releasing a big part of... well...me. Occasionally it feels like I'm leaving behind some of the person that's developed through this recent process -- the adventurous orator who makes friends easily, reads the newspaper, and sings Broadway out of sheer enjoyment. I know that realistically, I'm not leaving this person behind, because I will not walk away from who I've become... yet the anticipated separation feels like I am losing part of my soul.

And perhaps I am.

So I will let myself cry... for things that were and things that fell and things that were trampled in the process... and just because grieving is the thing to do right now... even if I thought that phase was over ages ago. I'll cry for the hurt and the laughter, for the life-changing situations and those that gave me fresh perspective. I'll cry because right now I think I'll never get over it. And I'll cry because I'm sure that I will, in fact, get over it. I'll cry because eventually down the road, this will no longer even be important. I'll cry for the time when I won't be crying any longer.

I'll cry for the day when my heart will be healed... and I'll cry that it took me so long to get there.

And how do I know my heart will be healed? Well, truly... I don't. But I do know that we have a big God, and He's in the business of healing.

Perhaps He's also in the business of helping us say goodbye.

explanation

The Explanation for Our Difficulties

". . . that they all may be one, as You, Father, are in Me, and I in You; that they also may be one in Us . . ." —John 17:21

If you are going through a time of isolation, seemingly all alone, read John 17 . It will explain exactly why you are where you are— because Jesus has prayed that you "may be one" with the Father as He is. Are you helping God to answer that prayer, or do you have some other goal for your life? Since you became a disciple, you cannot be as independent as you used to be.

God reveals in John 17 that His purpose is not just to answer our prayers, but that through prayer we might come to discern His mind. Yet there is one prayer which God must answer, and that is the prayer of Jesus— ". . . that they may be one just as We are one . . ." (John 17:22 ). Are we as close to Jesus Christ as that?

God is not concerned about our plans; He doesn’t ask, "Do you want to go through this loss of a loved one, this difficulty, or this defeat?" No, He allows these things for His own purpose. The things we are going through are either making us sweeter, better, and nobler men and women, or they are making us more critical and fault-finding, and more insistent on our own way. The things that happen either make us evil, or they make us more saintly, depending entirely on our relationship with God and its level of intimacy. If we will pray, regarding our own lives, "Your will be done" ( Matthew 26:42 ), then we will be encouraged and comforted by John 17, knowing that our Father is working according to His own wisdom, accomplishing what is best. When we understand God’s purpose, we will not become small-minded and cynical. Jesus prayed nothing less for us than absolute oneness with Himself, just as He was one with the Father. Some of us are far from this oneness; yet God will not leave us alone until we are one with Him— because Jesus prayed, ". . . that they all may be one . . . ."

Oswald Chambers, My Utmost for His Highest, May 22

you (II)

Why are you so intent on hurting me?
Does it thrill you?

Or better yet, do you even recognize the sting of your words?
They cut deep.

I am hurt, but I have no intention of hurting back.
Yet somehow, every time, I am the one being blamed.

Do you know that you hurt me over and over, each slap just a bit harder than the one before? What did I ever do to deserve this?

And why... why, oh why, oh WHY, even when I know that you're not right for me, does it hurt so terribly?

Is it possible for you to be kind?
Is that too irrational for me to expect?

Please.
Please stop hurting me.

I Am

I Am

Pencil marks on a wall,
I wasn't always this tall
You scattered some monsters from beneath my bed
You watched my team win
You watched my team lose
Watched when my bicycle went down again
And when I was weak, unable to speak
Still I could call You by name
And I said, "Elbow Healer... Superhero
Come if You can"
You said, "I Am"

Only sixteen,
life is so mean
What kind of curfew is at 10pm?
You saw my mistakes
And watched my heart break
Heard when I swore I'd never love again
And when I was weak, unable to speak
Still I could call You by name
And I said "Heartache Healer... Secret Keeper
Be my best friend"
And you said, "I Am"

You saw me wear white by pale candlelight
I said forever to what lies ahead
Two kids and a dream,
with kids that can scream
Too much it might seem when it is 2am
And when I am weak, unable to speak
Still I will call You by name
"Shepherd, Savior, Pasture Maker
Hold onto my hand"
You say, "I Am"

The winds of change and circumstance blow in and all around us
So we find a foothold that's familiar...
And bless the moments that we feel You nearer

When life had begun,I was woven and spun
You let the angels dance around the throne
And who can say when, but they'll dance again
When I am free and finally headed home
I will be weak, unable to speak
Still I will call You by name
"Creator, Maker, Life Sustainer
Comforter, Healer, my Redeemer,
Lord and King, Beginning and the End"

"I Am... Yes, I Am"

-Nichole Nordeman, "I Am"

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hide

Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee;
Let the water and the blood,
From Thy wounded side which flowed,
Be of sin the double cure,
Save from wrath and make me pure.

Not the labor of my hands
Can fulfill Thy law’s demands;
Could my zeal no respite know,
Could my tears forever flow,
All for sin could not atone;
Thou must save, and Thou alone.

Nothing in my hand I bring,
Simply to Thy cross I cling;
Naked, come to Thee for dress;
Helpless, look to Thee for grace;
Foul, I to the fountain fly;
Wash me, Savior, or I die.

While I draw this fleeting breath,
When my eyes shall close in death,
When I rise to worlds unknown,
And behold Thee on Thy throne,
ock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee.

Hymn, Rock of Ages. Lyrics, Reverend Augustus Montague Toplady

According to a famous but largely unsubstantiated story, Rev. Toplady drew his inspiration from an incident in the famous gorge of Burrington Combe, a Mendip gorge close to the Cheddar Gorge. Toplady, a preacher in the nearby village of Blagdon, was travelling along the gorge when he was caught in a storm. Finding shelter in a gap in the gorge, he was struck by the title and scribbled down the initial lyrics on a playing card.

me

Seriously.


When I tell you that I miss you, tell me that you miss me back.




You do miss me... don't you?

you

You.

Why do you plague me so? Crawling through my mind; clinging to my heart. Why do you insist on inhabiting the one place I wish you wouldn't? Just when I thought I had gotten past the thoughts that cause me so much pain, why do they consistently return, always accompanied by thoughts of you?

Is it because I want them to? Do I bring this on myself?

Why, when I think about leaving, do I convince myself to stay? Am I really living well, or am I afraid to leave you? And why am I afraid? Why, when I think about my future, can I think of seeing you in it? Why am I afraid if you're not? Why, sometimes, do I not want to travel because you're not with me? Why do you have to haunt my love of airports and orange juice with Sprite?

Why do you have to tell me that I look so nice, even now? Why do I want you to? And why, by the way, does that have to hurt so much? I must confess that I still think of you as I choose what to wear and how to smell and where to park my car. Are you part of my identity? Why do you have to go get really sexy glasses, so all I want to do is look at you? Why do you call me Kimmie, as only so very few can? You might as well call me "love". Why can't I forget the way that you kiss? Why would I be upset if you moved away?

Why did this relationship have to be the exception to every rule? Why couldn't you parade me on your arm? Why didn't I demand that you did? Why should it have been a demand? Why is my lipstick still on your side view mirror? I'm guilty of wanting it to stay. Why do I think that my heart will be crushed if you ever wipe it away?

Why couldn't you have straightened things out when push came to shove? Why did it take a break up? Could this ever be healthy again? Is that even a question worth asking? And how will I know? And how do I let go if I still want to cling to that hope? Am I dragging myself down? How will I know if I've truly let it go? Why do I have to be so nurturing? Why do you haunt my dreams?




Why did I give you my whole heart?

(And why in my mind, after all of this pain, am I still convinced that this is the only way to love?)