four-minute friday: goodbyes

Go. Jon McLaughlin said it best: I hate the sound that goodbyes make.

I've talked before about the revolving door of my life. I've said a lot of goodbyes in the past eleven-plus years as a missionary. It never gets easier.

I think my heart is more sensitive right now and she feels more deeply the sting in every farewell. The miles of distance seem multiplied. The sorrow that comes in the night feels heavier. Sigh.

I've been living in Ohio with my Kitty's parents for eight months. Terry and Weezer took me in as one of their own daughters and made me feel very loved and cared for at a time I really needed it. Goodbyes were tearful when I left for Atlanta this week, and driving away from my W'ville home felt completely bittersweet in so many ways.

My heart is echoing today with my least favorite sound.

The one that goodbyes make.

Done.

fight the fear

Just because I believe it's possible to genuinely know someone on a deep level, doesn't mean it comes easily for me. I've been hurt profoundly, often by those I've held closest, so trust is a real battle. It's really a fight against fear. Fear of being rejected. Walked out on. Fear of being a disappointment. A failure. Fear of someone better coming along. Of being more replaceable than keepable. Fear of being lied to. Used. Patronized. Fear of not being enough.

Yeah, it's a battle.

But it's one I've chosen to continue to fight. I haven't given up in defeat, shrugging as I walk away mumbling that trust just isn't worth it.

Trust is worth it. That's why I continue to fight for it. Even when it's hard.

In the wake of very deep hurts, I've still given my heart and bared the real me to my closest friends. I've remained vulnerable and exposed. Sometimes it takes more conscious effort and intentionality than others, but I've worked hard to not retreat into myself at the time when I need others the most.

It's true that the deeper the vulnerability, the greater the potential for hurt. But I also know this much is true: The bigger the risk of trust, the stronger the love and intimacy that grows there.

And that alone makes the battle worthwhile.

authentic authenticity

"You just never really know a person, do you?" I've heard that from a few different people lately. I understand the shock when a person ends up being nothing like I expected. I get the hurt when someone I know well turns out to be very different from how I knew him to be. I comprehend the disbelief when someone I hold close proves to be nothing like I thought. It makes me question everything, myself included.

Why did he change so drastically? Or was he always like this and I just didn't realize? I guess I really didn't know her as well as I thought I did.

I completely get the painful bewilderment when you're hit with the reality that you never really knew someone.

But I'm not sure I'm ready to concede that I can never truly know a person.

Maybe it's my naivety or my blind hope, but I have to hold onto my trust in authenticity. And transparency. And intimacy. I have to trust that those I know best and who I consider to know me best, aren't leading me on. That they are being genuine; that they are giving me the real them just as I give them the real me. I have to trust that I can really know a person. Deep-down, hearts-connected, honest-to-goodness, truly know someone.

I desire to be known in that way, and I desire to know others on that level. And I refuse to believe that intimacy is only a sandcastle waiting for a wave to erase it from the shoreline. Some things just have to be real.

What about you? Do you think you can ever really know a person?

peace, be still

Peace.

I want more of it. I crave it actually.

I love the verse that says, “For He Himself is our peace…” So praying for more peace in my life means praying for more of Him in my life.

Yes please.

I think often of the storm at sea in Mark 4, and how Jesus quieted it with His command: “Peace! Be still!” Jesus spoke peace, but peace was already there. Because He is peace.

With Jesus in the boat, the disciples already had peace in the middle of the storm. But they wanted peace without the storm. And Jesus gave that to them; He calmed the wind and waves. But then He looked at them and said, “Don't you have any faith at all?"

Woah.

Maybe He was telling them that faith doesn't mean trusting for miraculous rescue from the storm. But rather it means enduring the storm, knowing that Peace is right there with them.

Maybe He's telling me the same thing.

one word

Holla!