Fierce.

Fierce.

So, having my sister fly in the night before I left to hang out with me, waking up at 3:45 with my entire family to say good-bye, having an incredibly close girl friend drive me to the airport, and another meet me there to send me off, I am understanding why I am so in love with where my roots are. The relationships held there can only be described with one word, and that word is “fierce.”

My good buddy Andrew and I have come to call my heart break in leaving people as “separation anxiety,” which I don’t think it is quite as severe as the literal definition, but nonetheless, I do have an issue with releasing my white knuckled grip on the people I hold dear, and surrendering them into the care of Jesus.

That is what I felt this morning. It was a forced release. Like when a child will not let go of their brother’s toy, and the brother ends up ripping the toy back. I feel like all of the relationships that I hold dear were just ripped back. I realize it sounds a little bit dramatic, but I could go all out and reference the separation anxiety.

I sat in the living room of the Parkers about six months ago and listening to Laura talk about how she felt like the disciples when Jesus called them after there nets were bursting at the seams. She had a firm, incredible community, a church, and a home. She had a full net, and that is when she was called. I remember sympathizing with her, thinking about how awful it would be to leave at such a time.. I feel like I understand now.

When I came back from Denver, Fort Collins, Brazil, and then Florida last summer, finally settling back in at home, I felt like I was a dried up sponge, searching for the moisture and comfort of having roots, having community, having the sense of belonging. Just over a year later, I am looking back on my time, especially the last summer, as rich and full. Going back to the sponge image, I went from hard and dry to dripping and heavy, in all the positive connotations possible.

With that said, leaving a fierce, rich and full community, with deeply laden roots and an amazing family to boot, leaving them this morning was more of a ripping steal than a graceful release.

I have to mention this; that the sun JUST NOW went down. I have not seen natural darkness since we drove to the airport. We have literally been chasing the sunlight for 24 hours. As the sun goes down here in Korea, I am reminded that the sting of the rip will also be put to rest, that my fears and unbearable excitement will be burritoed in bed, that the amazing experience of whale sized planes and body provoking head bobbing; these things will be put to rest. As I learn to surrender, exercise my faith, I trust that my Lord will speak in the darkness of rest, and escape from chaos.

Thank you for your prayers for Sarah and I’s travels. We are about 3.5 hours from Thailand, and our hearts are smiling as our exhausted eyes and dirty hair mingle. Continue to pray, please, and practice with me this difficult exercise of surrender.