The Lasts

Yesterday was the first day of our last full week here. As excited as we are for the adventure awaiting us, change is hard, and saying goodbye is even harder. The kids have begun having their last playdates with friends. We've already said goodbye to a few of them whom we won't be seeing again. They all seemed fine; I was the one getting teary-eyed. And I haven't even started saying goodbye to my own friends yet! I taught my last piano lessons here, and even played my piano for the last time, before it was sent to its “babysitter's” house. One of my sweet students who graduated this year, and whom I've taught since she was six years old, wrote me a precious letter that I will treasure always.

We're in the midst of a lot of mundane “lasts” as well: our last visits to the doctor and dentist, our last visit to the post office, the library, the bank, Walmart, and all those other places we go so often without giving it a second thought. We had our last trip to Greenbrier, the state park we go to every summer, our last pool party with the extended family, our last road trip to other states.  This next week and a half will also bring us through the last Sunday at our church, the last meeting with the orphan ministry, the last get-together with our friends, the last dinner with Heath's family. 

This will be our last full week as a “normal” family. (I know some of you will debate whether we were ever normal, but you know what I mean.) Until now, only the girls had lived in another country, and that was when they were too young to remember it. But after this we will be a truly international family, having lived in another country, hopefully speaking two languages, having experienced life on the mission field and on missionary support.

Not knowing whether or not we'll live in this house again (since the renters might want to buy it next year), we may be experiencing our last EVERYTHING here. The last birthday party, the last play date, the last sleepover, the last dinner with friends. And in the next 11 days . . . the last moments in the family room with the fireplace and skylights I love so much, the last time to sleep in these bedrooms, the last time the kids play on the tree swing or build in the woods, the last hike down and up the driveway to get the mail, the last meal cooked in this kitchen, and (Hallelujah, bless the Lord) the last time cleaning each bathroom and every nook and cranny. Somehow, even that makes me sad.

And I know, it's only for a year, not for life. And with modern technology we'll still be in touch with everybody, probably even more than usual. And I'm excited to go! But, still, there's a grief in leaving so much of the familiar behind. And I'm only recently realizing this. When we decided to do go, it was all excitement and just a few questions about practical matters. But now I'm feeling the emotional weight of it all. And I realize it's going to be a lot harder to leave than I thought. Then again, I'll probably feel the same way about coming back!

I'm so thankful that God is the constant through all of life's changes. He is with us wherever we are, and He is close to the broken hearted. So no matter how hard it is to say goodbye, or how difficult next year might be, His mercies are new every morning, and His love is never ending.