Where's the Good in Goodbye?

It’s Saturday afternoon, and my sweet, incredibly generous mom and dad just left. Pulled out of the driveway, hit the 50 headed East to Lake Tahoe, and just like that . . . gone.

It was a short and unexpected “bonus” visit, so I thought I’d be less sad this time. But it never, ever seems to get any easier—no matter how long or short the visit, no matter how planned or spontaneous. The goodbyes are anything but good.

I find it near impossible to craft with words the emptiness that accompanies these goodbyes. The gut-wrenching sadness simply can’t be quantified by writings. I hate to sound so dramatic, but perhaps the juxtaposition of the fullness of love and the deafening quietness of an empty house heighten the difficulty of saying goodbye.  I despise the confused, sad look on my son’s face when he awakens from his nap and runs to Mimi & Pop’s room, only to find it unoccupied. And I despise trying to explain to him how this works, this coast-to-coast thing, without shedding tears and upsetting him even more.

It plain ‘ol stinks.

And every visit, every goodbye, every separation becomes yet another open wound where the enemy hits me hard, tempting me to jump on the “why why why??” slide and slip right down into a pit of self-pity and frustration.

It is a fight to not ask those questions, and at times like these, I want so badly to just go for it, let God “have it” so to speak—let Him have my frustration and confusion and annoyance and sadness.  I want to just get down and wallow in it.

But in the next breath, I’m humbled and sobered by the truth of God’s goodness, and how He is able to fulfill our deepest dreams and desires and do it in a way that is truly best for us, and—most importantly—best for His kingdom purposes.  I write this because I have to remind myself, today and always, that this life is not about me and not about my individual, singular happiness.  That truth is obvious in print, yet difficult to grasp in the day-to-day disappointments that break our hearts.

I recently saw a quote from Lysa Terkeurst on Facebook that read, “Regardless of the stress I’m under, most days I’m managing blessings.” And boy, isn’t that the truth for all of us? In spite of the pain, the heartaches, the emptiness we may feel on account of our circumstances, I’d say we all have an ample supply of blessings on which we can focus.

While I’m not sure these goodbyes with my family will ever become easier or less tearful, I can see how it’s a good thing that saying goodbye stinks as much as it does, because it’s evidence of the gift of loving relationships. So I will wipe my tears and work on flexing my faith muscle, and—should you need to get ahold of me—I’ll be taking my own advice and putting myself in time out ;-).