There is just something about leaving a place, a culture, a ministry that makes me feel something I struggle putting into words.
The feeling often hits when I'm staring out the window of a ridiculously long bus ride, a hectic taxi ride, or a relaxing plane flight.
I reflect on the month knowing its a place I probably won't ever be in again.
No matter how challenging, how joyous, how invigorating the month was, leaving always conjures up the same feeling.
A feeling that no matter how many times I laughed or wished time would go a little faster or if I grasped even more of an understanding of Jesus' love, it's still difficult to say goodbye to what I called home for 30 days.
Even when it means leaving a place that my heart was fully alive or uncomfortably vulnerable, something hits my insides and shows me that God went before I got there, was there in the midst, and is still behind me through it all.
Even when all I want is it to willingly slam the door closed on a month or Jesus has to pry my little fingers off the door to gently close it behind me, there are such magnificent lessons that reveal themselves in due time.
Sometimes they hit immediately. Sometimes I catch a glimpse of them in passing thoughts.
Sometimes I have to ask Jesus to show me what it is he taught me.
The bottom line when leaving each month is this:
Jesus was and is in control and he never lets go of my hand.
He is so much better than I've ever known before.
And I am a chosen daughter of the most high king.
