“Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.” -Galatians 1:3
Small Point, Maine
Grace: an undeserved act of kindness.
I’m now in the season of goodbyes, and it’s hard.
Most often I process things through writing, over time and with space. I say goodbye now, but I know the weight and finality of it all won’t be fully felt until months from these moments, as I’m sitting somewhere in Central America.
It’s easier to say goodbye if a “See you later!” is tacked on the end. It’s easier to say goodbye if I don’t acknowledge that even if I tried to recreate it after the Race, what I have right now will never be again. It’s funny how the truth of that stings in such a humbling, beautiful way.
Once I say goodbye, I will never again have this exact community surrounding me. I will never again have these incredible coworkers in neighboring cubicles and offices just down the hall or across campus. I will never again live in this apartment on Beach Street; the one that welcomes in morning light so perfectly and has been filled with countless friends, Roommate laughter, tension, and life unfolding.
Once I say goodbye, I may never be a part of the Eastern Nazarene College community in the same way I am now. I will probably never live with Chelsie and Becca the way we have these last five years. I may never again go to the Quincy post office at Christmas time, or walk the same route to work, smiling at the smell of honeysuckle on the corner of Willow and East Elm.
Once I say goodbye, I will never again work with these students I’ve come to care about deeply. Students I’ve learned with, laughed with, and watched grow through small groups, at youth retreats and camps. Students I’ve had the honor of praying with, shedding tears on their behalf as they’ve entrusted me with pieces of their stories over the years. Students who inspire me.
This will be my last week of Teen Camp with students from Maine and Mid-Atlantic. I decided to work through the summer because I knew I didn’t want to miss these final moments. I didn’t want to miss this last chance to be goofy with them, to worship next to them, to talk about college and their futures. I didn’t want to miss this last chance to work alongside pastors and youth leaders who have taught me endless lessons in grace, compassion, and welcome.
And it’s not that I think my presence in their lives these past three years has been anything extraordinary, but their presence in my life certainly has been. I don’t want to miss this final chance to be present with them.
So I pray for grace. Whole buckets of grace.
Because as much as I want to soak everything in and be present, I find myself stumbling through this season. I’m trying to finish well, but often feel overwhelmed by emotions (literally all the feelings, usually at the same time), to-do lists, and the details that come with wrapping up one chapter while moving into the next.
I had an idea, a hope, of how these summer months and the closing of this chapter would read. I wanted to move forward gracefully, but instead I stumble ahead with a hand outstretched, reaching for fistfuls of grace.
Grace for when I don’t have the right words in the right moment to tell you how much you mean to me. Grace when I can’t articulate what I’m feeling (all the feelings, remember?). Grace for times when you ask if I’m excited, and I just start crying. Grace if I’ve made you feel neglected or forgotten in this process. I ask for your extension of grace as I make mistakes in this season of transition. This is hard, and I’ve never done it before.
I ask for grace as I mourn the people, and places I’m leaving behind. In the moments when I just don’t deserve it, I humbly ask for the kind of grace Jesus extends. And I’ll do my best to extend grace to you too, as you figure out how to navigate this season when it might not look like what you pictured, either.
While the closing of this chapter does lead to the opening of another exciting and life changing chapter (which I am absolutely PUMPED about), turning the page is still hard.
I ask for grace, as I say goodbye to life as I’ve known it. Grace as I open my hands, letting go of what has been in order for God to fill what’s now empty, with whatever He wants.
I’m thankful this Tribe we have here, is a Tribe of grace. Especially for the goodbyes.
