The Art of Leaving

A pastor I met recently called seminary "Transition Practice." In other words, it isn't so much about the classes and the books as it is about the art of leaving. Of saying goodbye. Of going from one community to the next. Of starting anew with a new set of somebodies. Of trusting there will be new somebodies that will love like these somebodies we already know and love.

I'm having a difficult time leaving. Saying goodbye. Going from this community to the next in Montana. Trusting that there will be new somebodies that will love me like my somebodies already do. I guess I still need a lot of practice but I can't say I'm looking forward to another round of goodbye's. Does it ever get easier?

As I give away my laundry hamper, my couch, my things that are really only things, I find myself flooded with all the memories surrounding them. I don't need to have this couch (I am on it now) to remember four rounds of horrible illnesses, fantastic movies with friends, cuddling with my boyfriend, and fantastic conversations over coffee, tea, and homemade meals. It doesn't stop me from hugging a cushion as tightly as I can and humming the lyrics to Ingrid Michaelson's "Breathing" though. Oh goodbye, why are you so difficult?