Sitting here at the kitchen table in my son’s house. Listening to the quiet hum of suburbia
USA. Gentle, clean air rifles the
curtains and the leaves. The stillness punctured
with the staccato rhythm of my typing.
Last day in America for awhile. Last day of jump in the car and go
trips. Last day of aisles and aisles of
convenience.
Last day of family a quick call or drive away.
That’s really the trick of it. Managing the last day of family.
You try not to think about it and push more important tasks
to the front of your mind. Swallow the
distance with some menial job.
It doesn’t change the fact, but makes it more bearable.
You constantly weigh the balance of your own self-importance
here and there. “But what if something
happens while I’m gone?” You argue with
God. “What if this calamity or that
difficulty or that challenge rises? Who
will help them?”
I’m sure God smiles in response. “Yeah, I’ll be sure to call you if I can’t
handle it.”
You definitely don’t think about the good things you will be
missing. You won’t hear about the
mundane daily blessings and accomplishments.
Those things don’t seem important enough to mention on a scheduled Skype
call. Backyard baseball heroics don’t
come up when there is only one hour to say everything.
Children of all ages will grow while you’re gone. Your sons will become taller and stronger
men.
Your daughter-in-law will become an
even better woman. Your mother will
deteriorate a little bit more. Time
holds still for none of us.
All the while they think you are leaving for a grand
adventure. They see you packing bags and
smiling and laughing on the outside.
But inside? You are
tearing yourself away from smothering them with love.
Why would someone do such an awful thing as leaving on
purpose?
I can’t answer for other grandmas or mothers or sisters out
there, but this one has a simple, complicated answer: The Will of God. The call from One who asks me to do something
that will have a lasting impact on the world.
The One who has set a legacy in place for me.
My family knows there is only one person I love more than
them: God.
I owe my life, and theirs, to Him. The many times I should have died, been in
jail, been destitute, but God had other plans.
I believe this, truly.
God has some purpose in keeping me alive and I aim to do whatever He
sets in my hands to do to fulfill that purpose.
Right now that means teaching academics and Bible on the other side of
the planet.
I don’t believe this only for me, by the way, but for
whoever is reading this. I think the
real answer to the question “Why am I here?” is found in following Jesus.
But I digress.
See? It’s so much easier to argue
theology than to think about the last American morning.
I am looking forward to the many blessings Moscow holds for
me. I have made friends there, good
friends, life long friends. I look
forward to the bustle of the city. It
keeps me from being lazy. I am excited
to see what this school year holds. I
love watching my students advance.
All that remains to be done is the flying. One lifestyle trades for another.
Now you know how leaving looks through a writer's eyes.
