I love to read. And I’ll read just about anything and
everything I can get my hands on. I’m pretty sure years ago when I started this
blog to stay connected to friends and family while I was traveling for months
at a time, I wrote about my love of books and learning. There is only one part
of a great book that I really don’t enjoy, and that’s the ending. I hate
turning that last page, frantically trying to read ahead to make sure there is
more when in reality I've come to the last word. Luckily for us, there is
always another great book just waiting to be read.
I feel a bit like that today as I say good bye to old
chapters of my life, and hello to the new. It’s been a great book, and it’s
bittersweet to reach the ending. But it is time to delve into a new one.
In a few weeks I’m moving into an adorable house near the
Saturday Market in Salem, closing a 9 year connection to Corban’s campus. What
will it be like to not answer my door and be faced with empty bags needing to
be filled with toilet paper or some issue that needs to be resolved immediately
or the world might end. I kind of can’t wait to find out! Gone will be the days
of using my vacation time to check students in and out of town homes- this year
vacation time is being spent in Florida (for real, I already bought my ticket).
More than just my physical address has changed though. Via
this blog I know I've touched on Kendra, her death and the unavoidable impact it’s
had in many of our lives and in my life specifically. The best way I know to
describe how I've felt is through an anatomical analogy, fitting for me and
her. I would equate my heart and emotions to a blister. Through her illness, it
was like a wound rubbed raw, exposed, red, painful. After her death it was that
initial covering, a thin shield against a horrible pain, transparent but
effective. And then there was the calloused blister protecting a slow healing
wound. What I've realized more lately is that while my wound was protected and
shielded from further pain, that shield also acted as a barrier from letting
good things in. And I’m ready to let good things in. As I walk away from the physical
home I've known for awhile, I think I’m also ready to walk away from the shield I've unknowingly
clung to for the last few years.
I think this chapter started ending long before I was even
aware of it, which thank goodness, it kept me from frantically trying to read
ahead. How unbelievable is it to have faith in a God who literally prepares a
way for you before you even know you’re turning down that road. It’s a rather
freeing feeling. I have no idea how anything in the next year will play out,
what hurts and hopes lie ahead, and it feels fantastic. Free. Exciting.
I guess I don’t
hate every ending.
“Be
free... simple, a child. But be a sturdy child, who fears nothing, who speaks
out frankly, who lets himself be led, who is carried in the arms; in a word,
one who knows nothing, can do nothing, can anticipate and change nothing, but
who has a freedom and a strength forbidden to the great. This childhood baffles
the wise, and God Himself speaks by the mouth of such children.”
Francis Fenelon
A little walk down memory lane- Kendra and I- 2007, Emmigrant Lake
