This was not just another morning here in India and it was not just another person that I was saying goodbye to. Ashok is an 18 year old Indian boy whom I have nicknamed "Pichoda" which in Telagu means "crazy man." Ashok is a passionate young man who strives each day to serve our entire team. He helps cooks our meals, leads worship, and adds fun to any environment we are in. During our time here, I have become very close to him. He has shown me what a true friend looks like in the sacrifice he made in missing ministry on the day that he decided to stay home with me, care for me, and entertain me when I had a migraine. He has shown me what being a true servant looks like and the generosity that one can give in serving others before oneself because that is what he always did, he served us first. He has shown me what 'choosing joy' means because there wasn't a minute that I saw him doing anything but that. We had some amazing times together, lots of laugh, and it ended well – with tears.
The sound of raindrops gliding through the sky as they dance to miss each other, awakens me. The usual sound of Hindi music and livestock being quickly herded past as a sheppard clucks his tongue amongst his teeth, is silenced. Today, the sky is crying and therefore, the tasks that usually occur, do not. I walk down the stairs and into the kitchen to find the usual site of our hosts preparing our breakfast as the news that one of the young men who has walked alongside us during our time here, is leaving. This news has come to me as quite the shock since my own team will be leaving in just 5 days and only having an hour notice doesn't exactly prepare one to say 'goodbye.' To say that this was just another goodbye for me, would be an understatement but in order for one to see where I am coming from and what this 'goodbye' truly entailed, I will paint you a picture of what and how my heart has felt or for a better choice of words, hasn't.
In 2005, I embarked onto the beginning of my life, or so I thought. I was headed off for college and it just so happened that I chose a university that was out of state and as far away from my hometown as possible. Less than three months later, I received news that my grandfather was not doing well and that later that week, I would be flown back to Texas. Two days before my flight, I was told that my grandfather was put into Hospice. The day that I reached Hospice, I was told that my grandfather was in such a vegetable state that by this point, he couldn't even respond with a yes or no by blinking. That same night, my grandfather passed away. While I did have the opportunity to say goodbye, a part of me was lost in the innocence of hard goodbyes and the selfishness I had carelessly chosen. After that moment, I struggled with goodbyes; for years, I have struggled with goodbyes. I just don't 'do' them if that makes any sense. I have traveled a lot and met many different people and while I do love the places I have been and the people with whom I have spent my time, there has been something missing in that I have not enabled myself to feel that sorrow in saying goodbye. I have believed the lie that feeling nothing is better than feeling at all and one-sided friendships and unhealthy relationships simply strengthened my reason for doing so. I lived in China for more than a year. It was a country that I began to understand, people that were easy to love, and a culture that I found daily humor in. It was the place where my career was joyous, my friends were a blessing, life was exciting, and the very place where God showed me that he is mine and I am his. It was also a place where I lost something that I will never get back and in and through the burdens and blessings, it was just another place that was easy for me to walk in and walk out of. I was there for more than a year and didn't shed a tear. Not. A. Drop. I didn't cry for what I had lost there but more importantly, I didn't cry for what I had gained. I remember being embraced by the 5 friends who had escorted me to the airport, I remember the tears that were shed by each of them and I remember the lack of feeling I had. I remember thinking "Wow, I didn't even cry." When you close that part of yourself off, it becomes natural. So how was this day in India, different?
Ashok embraced each of my teammates as he said goodbye while also quietly crying. I stood there and watched as a few of them also began to tear up, that feeling I always have when it is time to say goodbyes overcame me. It wasn't going to happen; I will not allow myself to feel like that. I don't do those kind of 'goodbyes.' In that moment, Ashok said his final goodbye, with me. He held onto me, the tears that quietly fell from his eyes began flowing more freely as the weeps became sobs and sobs became mourning and then it happened, as he grabbed my head and put it onto his shoulder, I began crying too. We stood there for 5 minutes straight, simply crying in the middle of a room and I can guarantee that I haven't cried in saying a goodbye to someone like that since I was a child. What happened in that room, with Ashok, on a rainy day here in India enabled me to see that when love is expressed fully, one must learn to feel every part of it, even if that means the 'goodbye.' This day in India has enabled me to cry for what was not great loss but great gain but most importantly, it has given me the courage to feel again. Today was a day of tears, today was a day that the sky was crying and today was the a day that my heart felt.
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