i don't even know what to say

man, last week was exhausting in as many ways as i can even think of. as always, class and conversation here have been heavy, in a good way usually, just heavy. i've had a lot of fun, more than i deserve, and i've been in and out of the city more times than i really ever want to be in such a short time. honestly, events all kind of blur.

what really sits kind of above everything else is the kristen going to ethiopia fiasco. yup, it's an official fiasco. kind of like jen junior, a mini version of their goodbye; that's probably a good way to put it, maybe. anyway a tough farewell, but remarkably good.

ok so i really just wrote everything before now to have something to put above my journal for this week which is really about the same thing anyway (saying goodbye again, on saturday) because i'm just so tired of thinking that only one thing can be on my mind at any particular time. 

but man i miss you guys, so bad.

Romans 2:4 

It’s amazing the kinds of things in life that can lead you to repentance. Usually it’s a tragedy or some other sort of pain that awakens you to your contribution to the plague that sin is in the world. The pastor in Gilead says that even the word “transgression” is legalism in itself; “Transgression is an open wound on the heart of humanity” (very roughly quoted, Ali’s got my copy). That may be a bit strong, but his point is made. A single sin is only the symptom of the disease, the cough of a lung cancer patient. But it’s not always trauma or mourning that can lead you there, to where you feel conviction. Sometimes it’s something incredibly good; sometimes blessing works to open our eyes to sin.

In case you hadn’t noticed, I had a friend move to Ethiopia on Saturday (she’s the one who was over here because she was on the way to Ethiopia; I might have mentioned her). And so this week, kind of the whole week, included the ordeal of saying goodbye to her, which was made particularly difficult because there’s just no frame of reference for two years. I mean, you can’t just let “I’ll see you in two years” be the last thing you say to somebody, right?

But goodbye makes you face some things, too. Sometimes you try to think of people in terms of the sum of what they’ve meant to you for the whole time you’ve known them, but that never works. Then maybe you try working through some sort of highlight reel in your head, memories and such, but eventually that falls kind of short too. So maybe you’re left with this kind of beaming sense of gratitude and love and some sadness and really nothing to do with it. You kind of become overwhelmed with the significance of the moment and the person and try (fruitlessly) to find some fitting way to explain and mirror the immense blessing that the person’s been to you.

And if that weren’t enough, when she comes to visit you in your new life, your new place, the thirteen friends you’ve only just made embrace her like a sister. They show interest and sensitivity and kindness. They include and offer and invite. They bear the weight of the distance between close friends. And then they surround her at sunset, after feeding her like an honored guest, and pray for her, the closest thing to a sending church. Every single hand on her shoulder I felt on mine; every single hug after going together to the Father, I received too.

If for even the tiniest measurement of time I accidentally thought I’d done something to deserve this, the cross flashed in my mind bearing my due penalty. To receive community in life instead of loneliness, family instead of isolation, and love instead of banishment – this is gift, not reward. And it applies a soothing balm to that wound we keep ripping open.