Goodbye as the New Hello

Goodbye is a word that has lost its potency for me, because it has become a cliche word. Since the day I was born I have been saying goodbye. 

At the tender age of seven, I found a world of possibility on my elementary school's vast playground. Atop a jungle gym shaped like a dragon, a group of us would take turns jumping from one dragon limb to the other, each time stepping one bar higher, increasing the risk that we might not reach the the other side. Somehow even then, we knew the risk was worth it, even if we fell and felt the gravel crunch our palms and shins. No great jump is made without the possibility of a great fall.

The lessons began on the playground and have only multiplied since. To playing pretend and jumping on jungle gyms, I have said goodbye.

At the formative age of 13, I entered into a realm altogether different from what I had known before. I traded childhood games and frivolity for teenage angst and insecurity (kind of a raw deal if you ask me). The games changed focus, but were still present. For the first time, I auditioned for the competition team at my dance studio, and I aimed for a level higher than my age range, a level higher than what was recommended for me. I jumped and fell, missing the mark and scraping my knees. Although I trod through a year of tears and wounded pride, my jumping days were far from over. I would jump again, and not only would I reach the bar this time, but I also would swing all the way around it. Scraped knees then became mementos.

To competing on teams and analyzing my performance, I have said goodbye.

Now, I am a grown woman by all agreed upon standards. My brain is beyond fully developed at the mature age of 26. I have a grown up job with towering responsibilities and expectations. I pay my bills, buy my groceries, and play the part of adulthood the best I can. Transition is the new risk. Jumping into a new job, jumping into a new home group, jumping into ministry opportunities, jumping into change. What if I fall and scrape my knees? If the risk was worth it on the dragon jungle gym, then how much more it is now, when the potential for the bar I might reach is so much greater and full of life-impacting implications. I have said goodbye to one season of life to jump into a whole new one. It's time to say hello.

So where am I going with all of this? We spend our whole lives saying goodbye, and I have noticed that the older we get, the more we anticipate the goodbye. As if we see it far off in the distance and run to greet it, instead of waiting patiently for it to come to us. The fear I have in every goodbye is what I will lose in the process, rather than remembering that in every step I take in faith, God has promised that the gain will exceed the loss. This truth has stood the test of time.

My hope is that goodbye will not be trite for us, that it will not be something we treat casually or something we run to as a way of pushing reset when we're feeling overwhelmed by the circumstances of life. One song's lyrics put it this way: "Sometimes it's over before it begins, no one takes a risk and everyone wins". The truth is - when we anticipate our goodbyes, no one wins. My prayer is that more people will say hello and seek to commit themselves fully where they have been placed. Then, when goodbyes do happen, they can be approached with intention and soberness. The only way we can take a goodbye seriously is by making sure that we say hello and mean it. We must pour our hearts into our hellos, knowing that it will make our goodbyes all the harder. Again, the risk is worth it. And we are promised that someday, hello will be our only word. No more goodbyes.

Eternity will be a haven of never-ending hellos. And the time to start is now. 

Reaching out my hand to you - what will your word be?

Hello,

Ashellen