Day 29: Traitors

At our church, people who attend for five years get a pen with the church's name on it.  People who attend for ten years get a "communion cup" with the church's logo on it.  (The "communion cup" is actually a shot glass.  We have a weird sense of humor, yes.)  Mr. Squire is just short of ten years; I'm a little more.  But overwhelmingly, we are considered "lifers."  And today our pastor said that maybe, for people like us (lifers who leave), they should give a "communion cup" that says "Traitors."  You'd have to know our pastor to appreciate the humor; for him, that's a way of expressing love and affection.

Today was our last Sunday at church.  I was doing okay until I said goodbye to three sisters (ages 3, 5, and 6) of a family that we love and admire a ton.  Their eldest is one of my favorite kids ever.  Even today, when I said that Junior would grow up to be big like them, but always smaller because she was younger, the eldest piped up and said, "Actually, that's not true... because when you get really really old, you shrink."   She's just brilliant like that.  Anyway, saying goodbye to the three girls and their parents was really hard, and just set into motion a trail of tears for a series of subsequent goodbyes.  

Leaving the two sisters who threw me a bridal shower when we weren't even close friends, because none of my bridesmaids were around to do it.

Leaving the older, single brother, with whom we have spent lots of time giving relationship advice.

Leaving the band of precious sisters in our "Phriday" women's group...including the auntie C-J who looooooooves Junior and was the first person outside of Mr. Squire and me to hold her.  

Leaving the older couple who were neighbors to us in Brooklyn and dear friends since.  They are childless, and Larry always treated Mr. Squire like the son he never had.  We would have cared for them in their old age, had we stayed.

And more...

It has never really mattered to a church whether I stayed or left.  Maybe it mattered to my original home church, but every kid leaves for college; that's different.  Since then, I have attended four different churches, and this is the first one that really became my true family.  We matter to this family, and they matter to us.  We are one and the same, and leaving is like cutting off an arm...and a leg...and probably the other leg as well. 

It won't hit me fully until probably a month from now, when we've moved to Palmtreeville, settled in, and started attending a different church...week after week.  When I miss my small group and long for the comfortable circle of women whom I love mentoring, laughing with, loving, and learning from. This last women's group was particularly special; we spent two years together! And during that two years, I traveled through the desert...became a mom...emerged from the desert...and moved away.  They walked with me through every part of it, and loved me through and through.  You don't find friends like this but once in a lifetime, it seems.

What wonderful care the Father gives to us... and He planned that today--our last Sunday--we should also meet with a very dear law school friend of mine, Bumbleberry, and his lovely wife.  Bumbleberry and I have been friends for a full decade now, and even though we only had three years of school together, we still see each other when we can and talking with him is as comfortable as a soft, worn, beloved blanket.  I'm reminded that the friendships we have that are built on a solid foundation remain despite distance and time.  I hadn't seen Bumbleberry and his wife since before they were married.  More than a year has passed.  But it really only felt like a few months, really.  And I can't help but think that God had us meet with Bumbleberry and his wife on this difficult day, as a reminder that how much more our church-family friendships shall endure, having been built on seven years of journeying together.

And plus...there is eternity ahead for all of us with the bond of Christ, and that is great cause for praise (and relief).  So onward we press... with sorrow in our hearts, but with that sorrow, hope and joy.  And thanksgiving.