There were good-byes. The little one–she wanted to roll the duffle and she learned how to steer wide turns. She navigated the escalator, all snuggled between the luggage and the warmth of her daddy. He was going far away.
Then there was Emma, this girl-turning-woman, embracing us all and being brave.
We stood at the gate, six of us circled in prayer. I listened to my husband’s voice–to his sweet pleas for peace and faith and love. His prayer was like a song in the shadows.
Then they left, Emma with a bit of nervous laughter and Steve with the calm resolve to bear it all with grace.
I look out at a slivered moon, a thin bowl of light in the western sky. I am reminded of how small I am . . . of how much I need the mercies of the One who is all light. Especially today.
The good-bye is good. They are going to Africa. It is a mission for the sake of Christ and His kingdom, both in Cameroon and in their own hearts.
The good-bye is hard, for it confronts my fears and stretches my trust. It is a needful dose of iron that I might not have an anemic faith.
The good-bye is full of the hope of reunion–that in a little while, we’ll be together again.
Oh, this is good for me.
Blessings on you, my dear ones far away. I know we all will be changed.