Our move to Baton Rouge is getting closer. We leave in one week. This is my last Sunday at Sayre Woods.
I knew that moving would be difficult. Selling a house, buying a house, packing up, throwing out, closing accounts, opening accounts, dealing with lawyers, mortgage companies, realtors, insurance underwriters, and township officials. Every day seems to have brought a new hurdle or obstacle to overcome.
But with all the stress of moving, the biggest difficulty has been saying good-bye.
It feels like a kind of death. You know you will see people again but the relationships will change. The daily interaction will end. Yes, there is now Facebook, email, Skype, cell phones, and a host of other things to make the distance seem less far. But there really is no substitute for personal, face-to-face interaction and the shared life of a common location.
I have moved before…from Florida to Alabama, Alabama to Louisiana, Louisiana to Texas, Texas back to Louisiana, Louisiana to New Jersey…and now back to Louisiana. It is the “now back” part that seems harder than the others.
Having a family changes the moving experience. When I was alone or when my wife and I were newly married, every move seemed like a new adventure. We were mobile. Our peers were mobile. Life was constantly in flux. But with a family…and a little more aging, things change. The roots grow deeper. You become more settled, more stable, more intertwined with relationships. Leaving hurts more.
Someone told me recently, “If leaving were easy, then you would know that your relationships were weak. When leaving is hard, you know that your relationships are strong.” It is a shame that oftentimes we don’t know how strong our relationships are until we say good-bye.
After St. Augustine lost some of his closest relationships and struggled with the grief, he commented that nothing in this world lasts, thus we shouldn’t grow too attached to anything…even people. C.S. Lewis, 1500 years later, would vehemently disagree with Augustine. Lewis’ quote is one of my favorites:
To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket-safe, dark, motionless, airless-it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. The alternative to tragedy, or at least the risk of tragedy, is damnation. The only place outside heaven you can be perfectly safe from all dangers and perturbations of love is hell.
Saying good-bye is never easy…but as Christians we hold onto the hope that saying good-bye is never forever. One day the reunion will last for eternity…without the threat of death, the selfishness of sin, or the ache of separation. That is the beauty of heaven.
Great site, Steve. I must admit that I’ve found it difficult to really say goodbye to you. I know we will see you in a few months, but you are right, relationships change. “But there really is no substitute for personal, face-to-face interaction and the shared life of a common location.” This is a great insight. It’s sad though when people don’t see the opportunity for this type of fellowship and relationship that is available to them. I trully appreciate being blessed with you as a friend, and have no regrets of a missed opportunity. I can look back at a lot of really fun, satisfying moments which we shared. I enjoyed team teaching the adults which is something I never would have done with a nudge out of my comfort zone. The CE skits, fantasy football, golf-baseball outings, men’s retreats, and our small group are all experiences that were better with you as a friend to share them with. Thank you.