Goodbye’s are not my strong suit.
They never have been.
In the past, I’ve been known to ugly cry my way through partings and farewells. Since I’m not eleven anymore, those loud expressions have been quieted outwardly, but I’d still just rather not say goodbye in the first place.
Three months ago, my biggest concern was having to say goodbye to my family.
Yet we’ve had each other for twenty-one years. It was easier than I had anticipated. Hard, definitely, but not the soul-wrenching breakaway I’d dreaded.
Today, I say goodbye to the team at Hub.
In the last three weeks, we’ve been through a lot together.
Flooded basement, an abundance of lost food (a large portion of which was replaced by generous donations, praise the Lord!), two different back-to-back camps, America nights, a ton of cleaning, constant worship, constant laughter, constant prayers.
What started off as separate entities, World Race-team-meets-Hub-team, has become something close to a family. There is little awkwardness, a multitude of loving correction, an abundance of encouragement, and a ton of laughter. We don’t move in circles around each other because we actually can’t: we are the first faces each other sees each morning, and the last seen before going to bed.
And all at once, we have to say goodbye.
Hinematov, still in our first month of the Race, has been shaped by our time here at Hub, by their team.
I’ve been shaped by Hub, by their team.
I can’t imagine having spent this last month any other way.
I wouldn’t trade the deep talks, tears, frustration, laughter, coffee, tent life, quiet-time-on-the-bathroom-floor, cold showers, no showers, bugs, bites, prayer walks, bike rides, bread—for anything.
Mags, JJ, Sonja, Nihad, Lucky, Nada, Olja, Atma, Tanja: I’ll miss you. I’ll be praying for you. I love you.
So long, month 1. c´ao, Serbia.
HEADS UP ROMANIA
