Swimming in Awkward

During all my years on the mission field I continued to wish to return to a time and space that I remembered but that no longer existed. I longed to return to the loving arms that sent us out and to the morning my life with them ended. I wasn’t able to recognize the damage of a life lived apart.
I would not see that the end had occurred until I was back home again for good. Had I known the ending was truly an ending I may not have been able to get into that van. It is good that many of the lessons in life are learned through years and not in moments. What I thought I was letting go of for now, I was really letting go of forever.
Before we stepped through the security line at the airport we huddled for one last picture with my family: Dad, Mom, my anchors. My sisters Julie and Joanne, my dearest friends in all of life. Brothers-in-law Aaron and Steve, Troy’s closest confidants. My nephews Isaac and Cooper, the two musketeers waving goodbye to the third, our Joey. My niece Ava Jan, Elly’s soul sister, and little Ean, the cherry on top of our extended family’s story.
Pastor Barry Caudle, our children’s pastor, was there. l will never forget the way he prayed over us all with tears rolling down his face, tears that spoke of a great love for our family.
I watched Joey go back to hug his grandparents one more time. And then we were gone. A gone thing from that life.
They all waved to us, and none of us hid our pain. We were ending a story. It was a good story, a story of long summer days, campfires, card games, family fights and wounds, forgiveness, and grace. The ending came quickly and yet we still didn’t see that either.
“Nothing changes except everything,” my little sister Joanne had whispered into my ear as we embraced one last time. No truer words could describe the departing of a missionary.