Saying Goodbyes

Have you noticed how our culture has a chronic phobia about goodbyes? I'm not referring to the short and sweet salutations when you know you'll see the person again next week. When it comes to true, sincere, and permanent partings, we avoid them at all possible costs. We make promises we have no intention of keeping in order to soften the blow.  We will slip in a "see you later" before we can let the fact sink in that, no, you won't see me again. We have social media as a topical anesthetic to numb the pain of parting; we'll take even a digital relationship over a severed one.

We may go through life acting like we don't need close relationships, but something in us despises the thought of leaving. Our souls are squeamish at the thought of saying goodbye.

We are about to finish our very last session--my first client and myself. Though constructed in the stiff roles of a client/counselor relationship, the connection that grew over the last semester was authentic and genuine. I cared about this person; outside of therapy I thought about their life and what I could say that could be helpful; I prayed that they might find Christ when my professional position forbade me from speaking His name. My job had been to sit and talk with this person every week, two hours a week, for the past three months. Now in our last five minutes together, I am at a loss for what to say. 

I think we hate goodbyes because our souls are wired for eternity. Death is as natural in this world as breathing, yet still it never ceases to tear our own worlds apart. Divorce ravages families and nations, despite the fact that many would like to claim it is the free choice of two consenting adults. Deep in our souls, we maintain the impression that relationships are supposed to last, even though in our heads we know better. So we dance around goodbyes like a terminal diagnosis because technology gives us an out.

But maybe we are scared of goodbyes because we fail to recognize the opportunities they provide. Without goodbyes we have no room in our lives for new hellos. It is possible for our lives to become so cluttered with dusty, aging acquaintance-ships that there is no room for a deeper friendship to emerge. Having your hands full of connections from a past life keeps you from being present with the people right in front of you, and without fresh perspectives in life, how can you grow?

The only solid goodbye I can remember came from an African woman who was my next door neighbor last year. She had completed her final semester, finished her PhD, and was returning home. We only knew each other for a few months, but we had shared many heart-felt and inspiring conversations and found a sincere connection. I was driving her to the airport. Right before I could open my mouth and ask "do you have a facebook?" she looked at me and, as if reading my mind, said "Oh, Sarah, we will not meet each other again in this life. I will always remember you. May God bless you." And with that she left. What a rare treasure, what a refreshing truth. We won't see each other, not in this life. But the God who placed eternity in our hearts promised a resurrection and a reunion, and we shall see each other then.

That goodbye became a treasure. Now I can can remember my friend without the regret or guilt of "oh, I should reach out to her again..." I'm free to take what I learned in that relationship and invest it fully in those whom God brings my way today. Her impact on the earth is magnified as I allow that memory to shape my current interactions. Sometimes saying goodbye seals the blessing of the relationship in a way that text-message updates never can.

So I watch my client leave with a swell of pride and a tinge of regret. I must have muttered something about how I appreciated our time together or wishing best of luck; I have not prepared myself well or even recognized how I sincerely cared for this person's progress. But constrained by my role as counselor, I know good and well there would be no facebook, no keeping in touch, and hopefully I won't ever "see ya later." My position forces me to stand tall and say the word, which pushes rolls out unpracticed like a foreign language:  goodbye. It feel good to do so, like the completion of a journey, or dusting off the hands after a job well done.

I've learned that it is respectful, honoring, to give a solid and sincere goodbye. You give that person a stepping stone on their journey, and whatever you have invested in them can be passed on. Even so, I believe that in my human need to keep things as they are, I would be unable to let go without the hope of eternity ahead.