Hi friends,
Today I’ve been thinking about goodbyes.
Not necessarily the forever kind of goodbye, but those goodbyes that come when a beautiful season reaches its end. When a visit is over. When someone packs their suitcase. When the guest room becomes empty again. When the house suddenly feels a little quieter than it did the day before.
A friend of mine has been going through this right now. Her parents came from Brazil to spend time with her after she had her baby. They stayed for about a month, loving on her, helping her, spending time with their grandchildren, and simply being together.
One of the sweet little memories from their visit is actually the photo I’m sharing with this post. My friend asked me if I could make a charcuterie board because her mom really loves cheese, and of course I said yes. 🙂 I went over for dinner, her mom made the most delicious creamy potato and chicken soup, I brought the charcuterie board, and we had bread with the soup. It was such a simple, cozy moment, but one of many really special moments we got to share while they were here.
And now it is time for them to go home.
I think there is something especially difficult about these goodbyes when you live far away from the people you love.
When you move to another country, the word home starts becoming a little complicated.
Home is where you grew up. Home is where your parents are. Home is the familiar food, the language you grew up speaking, the streets you remember, the people who knew you before you became the person you are today.
But then, somehow, home becomes somewhere else too.
Home becomes the place where your husband is. Where your babies sleep. Where your children are growing up. Where you have built your routines, your traditions, your friendships, and your little family.
And suddenly your heart belongs to two places.
You can miss Brazil while sitting inside the house you prayed for in America.
You can desperately want to visit your family and, at the same time, miss your own bed while you are there.
You can cry when your parents leave and still know that the life you have built here is exactly where you want to be.
Those feelings can exist together.
And I think sometimes we need to give ourselves permission to feel all of them.
Goodbyes are hard because they remind us how deeply we love.
If we didn’t care, leaving wouldn’t hurt.
If those weeks together hadn’t been special, the airport wouldn’t feel so heavy.
Ecclesiastes 3 reminds us that there is a season for everything – a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing. Life is filled with seasons. They begin, they grow, and eventually they change.
And no matter how much we know the goodbye is coming, somehow we are never completely ready for it.
We count the days.
“Three more weeks.”
“Ten more days.”
“Only two days left.”
And then suddenly it is tomorrow.
You can prepare the luggage. You can organize the documents. You can plan the ride to the airport. But preparing your heart is a completely different thing.
Sometimes there really isn’t a way to prepare it.
You simply walk through the moment when it comes.
You hug a little tighter. You cry. You say one more “I love you.” You watch them walk away.
And then you go home.
And somehow, life keeps moving.
The babies still need breakfast.
The laundry still needs to be folded.
The dishes are still waiting.
Someone needs a diaper change.
Someone wants a snack.
And little by little, the rhythm of everyday life carries you forward again.
The first day might feel strange.
The second might still feel quiet.
You may walk into a room and expect to see them sitting there.
But slowly, things begin to settle again.
That doesn’t mean you stop missing them. It simply means God gives us grace for the season we are standing in.
I love Psalm 34:18, which reminds us that the Lord is close to the brokenhearted.
Even in something as ordinary as saying goodbye after a family visit, God cares about the ache in our hearts.
He understands homesickness.
He understands longing.
He understands missing someone before they have even left.
And when our hearts feel divided between here and there, we can remember that our true security has never been found in a country, a house, or even in having everyone we love close to us.
Our security is in Him.
Isaiah 41:10 reminds us not to fear because God is with us. He strengthens us, helps us, and holds us.
So if you are saying goodbye to someone you love today, give yourself permission to cry.
Let the hug last a little longer.
Take the extra picture.
Say the things you want to say.
Don’t rush yourself through the sadness because you think you should be stronger.
You can be grateful for the time you had and sad that it is ending.
You can trust God and still cry at the airport.
Faith doesn’t mean we never feel heartbreak.
Faith means knowing that even while our hearts hurt, we are still being held.
And then tomorrow comes.
And the next day.
And slowly life finds its rhythm again.
Until another plane ticket is booked.
Another countdown begins.
Another airport hug happens – this time an arrival instead of a departure.
Maybe that is one of the strange and beautiful things about loving people who live far away.
There are so many goodbyes.
But there are also so many beautiful hellos.
And until the next one, may God give you peace for the distance, strength for the goodbye, and gratitude for every beautiful moment you were able to have together.
One season may be ending.
But the love remains.
And God is already waiting for you in the next one. 🤍
With love & grace,
Tay
