Goodbye Again

The concept of goodbye is a final thing.  We try to cut the pain of farewells by saying "see you later" instead of "goodbye".  Goodbyes are for finality, for closure, and when we bring ourselves to a place of uttering the words, it symbolizes that somewhere in our hearts and in time a door has been shut that we cannot go through again.

Except that... I do not believe that goodbye is so final.  I revisit it over and over again.

A few days ago, while hiking on a pristine trail in Hawaii, I saw you on the trail in front of me. Mixed in the browns of the dirt and dry plants, the specs of green that clung to grasses, you were there: an almost-perfect heart shaped leaf, bright red, lying in the dust at my feet.  Now there were plenty of your kind of leaves on the ground, but you were the only heart shaped one.  Instantly my mind flickered to the dear friend you remind me of: a beautiful tall blonde with melodic laughter, brimming with presence and life, sass and accents.  So I picked you up in my hand to take with me to keep and press between the pages of my Bible with other leaves and plants I had picked up over the years.

As we walked together, I remembered other journeys of this kind I had taken with her.  There had been other mountains, bigger and more rugged than this one.  We had breathed deeper together than I was doing now, we had gone higher, we had sweated until our eyes stung in one season and shivered and watched one another's lips turn blue in another.  We shared beauty and darkness, laughter and tears, were serious and ridiculous.  A saying we would make fun of was "It was real..." And yeah, it was.

At the end of the trek, I knew that you would not be coming home to be a Bible bookmark or permanent reminder of the day.  We ended at a stream, clear and cool, that journeyed into nature lined with trees and flowers, and ended in the ocean.  That is where you belonged.  And so I placed you there and watched the current carry you out of sight.  And silly enough, I felt emotional about it. Not because I was saying goodbye to you (no offense), but because I was saying goodbye to her again...  And I knew I always would be.  I mean c'mon, if a leaf can surface my love for her then it will happen often. 

In unexpected places, without warning, sometimes inconvenient, but always welcome... I expect to find reminders of her that let us trek on a mountain, laugh at hilarity, wish to hear her insight, enjoy just being... The reality of those left behind is that we live in goodbye, and it makes us sad.  But I am also thankful for simple things that will have me saying hello to you over and over again, until that day when there are no more goodbyes.  Miss you like stink my dear Annie, and love you forever.

What if...

I went out for coffee with a dear friend. We don't see each other often, but she is the kind of person whose depth and wisdom and joy meet me at a soul level. No pretentions, no attempts at being surficial, no skirting around one another's hurt. Just raw and real... And refreshing.

There are reasons that she can enter this level of vulnerable, a path where few dare to tread. One reason is because she is naturally amazing, and has always been someone who has radiated life and depth, and a genuine caring spirit that can really see people. But that natural disposition has been brought to another level, a level that has authority to it. Illness and its pain has brought her to a place that wellness and blessing cannot go.

Most of the people who try to encourage her, do it like this: "when you are well again, then ... (insert blessing here)". These people are good hearted. They want her to believe in a future. They hope that these thoughts will give her resolve to help her body fight back. But be wise, those who wish to encourage this way... You're forgetting something.

The present. The now. The obstacles to the future you are dreaming for. They are real, and they are here now, and they may never be hurdled.

My friend shared that one of the greatest questions she had been asked was "so, what if... you don't ever get better?"

Ouch. But the wise second part to that question was: "If... You don't ever get better, what are going to do to live fully today?" Do you know what that question does to a person who is in the midst of suffering? It reminds them...

They are still alive today. There are still good things to experience today. That blessings and joy are not only for the whole, and not only in the future. This conversation has continued to resonate with my soul.

I identified with my friend that day, as someone who is sick and who has found it hard to be encouraged by a great future that so many well meaning people have said I need to be healed to enter in to. I strongly caution anyone who believes that any blessings of God are to be reserved only for the whole to rethink the concept of grace and give your head a shake.  For the people who don't have healing in their earthly future, the promises stand true; not just the eternal, but the day to day.