Pages, Paragraphs, and Punctuation

Today we will make our last grocery run to Walmart. Tonight we may see some friends for the last time. And it's possible that this Sunday will be our last Sunday at NewSpring Church. I'm terrible at goodbye's, and I hate finality. I always try to avoid the uncomfortable moments in life by cracking jokes, but I can't think of anything funny to say. Whether I like it or not--whether I can find a punch line or not--this chapter is ending. Last time I looked, we were pages from the end, but now we're measuring by paragraphs and lines. Soon it will be words. And then a tiny piece of punctuation.

In the midst of this, though, I cannot help but feel the suspense building. I am already anticipating what I will find in the next paragraph. Because while this chapter ends with a period, the next one begins with a capital letter. And from what I can tell, this next chapter will be like that upper-case letter staring down at that tiny period. This is not the end. This is only the beginning of something different. And between us and all of the unknowns we are tempted to fear, there is God--the only constant amidst the chaos. He is our strength. He is our peace. He is our joy.

I took Charis to the park yesterday, and something struck me. Charis is so easily amazed. There is so much awe and so much wonder in her heart as she encounters the playground--and the world. She doesn't let the "little things" get choked by the cares and concerns of this life, which seem so large to me. And I stood there asking myself, When did I lose that wonder? When did I lose sight of the "little things" and start letting cares and concerns choke the life out of my soul?

It's easy to say that it's just part of growing up. That we have to trade silliness for seriousness. That we have to be mature. I wonder, though, if maturity isn't the presence of seriousness at the expense of silliness but rather the wisdom of knowing when to be which. Or possibly the wisdom of knowing how to be both at the same time. To teach my daughter to be fearless while ensuring that she's safe. To lay my cares at the feet of Jesus and not on the dinner table with my family. To keep my eyes and my heart open, looking for ways to worship God through the "little things" rather than losing sight of Him by obsessing over the "bigger things." Because the reality is: no matter how big the "bigger things" are, God is bigger still.

What matters, then, is perspective. We can look at the period and feel the finality and fear the unknowns. Or we can know that on the next page there is an upper-case letter. We can look at our concerns. Or we can look at the God who has already crossed all of those bridges and worked everything for our good. And we can let that understanding lead us to a child-like wonder. And to whole-hearted worship. Because in periods and in uppercase letters, God is good. He is even good on the blank page in between.

(Matt)

Not-So-Simple Prayers

Charis' prayer at dinner tonight:

Thank You, Jesus, for my isosceles triangle pizza!"

Three Weeks

Union Station, Kansas City, Missouri

Three weeks from today, we will say goodbye to Florence, South Carolina and to this chapter of our lives. There is only one word for this sort of thing: bittersweet. I never truly understood that word until we were faced with this decision.

It is bitter to say goodbye to friends we care about deeply. It is bitter to know that a set of grandparents is about to lose the ability to hug and kiss their granddaughter every few days. It is bitter to leave my parents and to know that if my brother or sister ever visit, they'll visit my parents and likely not Michelle, Charis, and me. After all, money is tight, and free time is scarce. I understand that video chat will be our lifeline--from Kansas City to Florence, Philadelphia, or New York. But I also understand that video chat is a poor substitute for the interaction we'll be giving up.

On the other hand, it is truly sweet to know that a grandmother and grandfather who have cried a tear for every mile between them and their granddaughter (by conservative estimates) will soon have their turn to watch Charis grow up and explore this great big world. It is truly sweet to know that God walked through this door before we ever saw it open--to know that He has already leveled mountains and raised up valleys before us. While I am full of sadness over leaving, I am filled even fuller with the peace and joy that come from following my Savior, King, and Lord, Jesus Christ.

It is that joy--that peace--that fills my heart as the personal effects in this house are replaced by the sterile look of carboard boxes and off-white walls. As the house we had planned to grow roots in is taken from us and given to someone else.

Three weeks from today, we will begin a journey over 1,000 miles long--toward the next chapter of our lives. And we will look behind us, as we pull out of this town, with thankful hearts. The five years we've spent here have been used by God to make us into the people we are today. And we are thankful. Thankful for the memories. Thankful for every experience--good and bad alike. Thankful for every friendship--those that will survive time and distance and those that will not.

But we are also hopeful. Because we know without a doubt that God has gone before us. And we know that He is holding our hands as we begin this new chapter. We don't know every why and wherefore, but we know that God is good. We know that He has a purpose and a plan for us as we change our setting and begin this next chapter. And we know that God will take care of everything--and everyone--that we will soon leave behind.