I am not good at saying goodbye.

I don’t like it, the goodbye part that is. I put off saying goodbye until the absolute last minute, no drawn out goodbyes from me. Each friend of mine fills my life in a unique way, kind of like the way evangelicals talk about the Jesus-shaped vacuum in everyone’s hearts. I have the Jesus vacuum as well–except it’s not a hole, it’s filled with Jesus, but you know what I mean–but I also have friend shapes that feel, well, vacuous when that friend is gone from my every day world.

One of my dearest friends moved away last spring. Julie had seen me through every stage of my adult life thus far… Dating, engagement, marriage, struggles within marriage, joys within marriage, desiring children but still waiting for them, then adoption, infancy and toddlerhood. I had envisioned hosting her daughters’ bridal showers someday in the future and, like other women at Zion, I imagined sharing stories about how I remember when her mother was nine months pregnant with the bride and how she was so ready to deliver. But within two weeks of a job change, Julie’s family moved. It felt like a bandaid had been ripped off, quick yet painful.

I’ve known about today’s goodbye for sometime now, and it was actually prolonged by several weeks, so the bandaid metaphor clearly doesn’t apply. I am wholeheartedly behind the O’Donnells’ move to Japan, yet my support doesn’t lessen the sadness I feel by the Jamie-shaped vacuum in my heart. Jamie, Bryan & Jones have been an integral part of our community dinners for the last 18 months, and as such, they have become like family. It’s nearly impossible to break bread with someone every single week and not become something of a tight knit community. It’s been a joy to see Bryan & Jamie: The Newlyweds turn into Bryan & Jamie: The Parents. And then there’s Jones, who I got to hold and love on from his birth last March to his toddling days last week. Suffice to say there will be a piece of us missing when we next gather for a meal at Brook’s place.

Okay, so I don’t like goodbyes. I cry the ugly cry (as Oprah says) and feel like weeping for hours afterwards. But I suppose the goodbyes are themselves are only testaments to how treasured these friendships have been. As a Christian, I can say with utmost confidence that the story of these dear friends is not over yet. The goodbyes I cry over today are not the final goodbyes; eternity is yet to come.

I am not good at saying goodbye.

I don’t like it, the goodbye part that is. I put off saying goodbye until the absolute last minute, no drawn out goodbyes from me. Each friend of mine fills my life in a unique way, kind of like the way evangelicals talk about the Jesus-shaped vacuum in everyone’s hearts. I have the Jesus vacuum as well–except it’s not a hole, it’s filled with Jesus, but you know what I mean–but I also have friend shapes that feel, well, vacuous when that friend is gone from my every day world.

One of my dearest friends moved away last spring. Julie had seen me through every stage of my adult life thus far… Dating, engagement, marriage, struggles within marriage, joys within marriage, desiring children but still waiting for them, then adoption, infancy and toddlerhood. I had envisioned hosting her daughters’ bridal showers someday in the future and, like other women at Zion, I imagined sharing stories about how I remember when her mother was nine months pregnant with the bride and how she was so ready to deliver. But within two weeks of a job change, Julie’s family moved. It felt like a bandaid had been ripped off, quick yet painful.

I’ve known about today’s goodbye for sometime now, and it was actually prolonged by several weeks, so the bandaid metaphor clearly doesn’t apply. I am wholeheartedly behind the O’Donnells’ move to Japan, yet my support doesn’t lessen the sadness I feel by the Jamie-shaped vacuum in my heart. Jamie, Bryan & Jones have been an integral part of our community dinners for the last 18 months, and as such, they have become like family. It’s nearly impossible to break bread with someone every single week and not become something of a tight knit community. It’s been a joy to see Bryan & Jamie: The Newlyweds turn into Bryan & Jamie: The Parents. And then there’s Jones, who I got to hold and love on from his birth last March to his toddling days last week. Suffice to say there will be a piece of us missing when we next gather for a meal at Brook’s place.

Okay, so I don’t like goodbyes. I cry the ugly cry (as Oprah says) and feel like weeping for hours afterwards. But I suppose the goodbyes are themselves are only testaments to how treasured these friendships have been. As a Christian, I can say with utmost confidence that the story of these dear friends is not over yet. The goodbyes I cry over today are not the final goodbyes; eternity is yet to come.

I keep reading reports from you Southerners out there. Reports of warm breezes and open doors, of daffodils emerging from their winter homes underground, of taking the kids to parks and playgrounds because it’s so lovely outside. And considering spring is my favorite time of the year, I’ve been turning green with envy. As you can see, life in snow-covered Nebraska continues! For today I will continue to dream of warmer weather as I pull on my Stormtroopers and walk the pathways cleared by the Snow Blower Fairy (ahem, this name was coined by Renae before she knew who cleared our sidewalks; thank you!!).

From my daily calendar…

Lewis Carroll introduced the notion of pormanteau words in Through the Looking-Glass where Humpty Dumpty says to Alice:

‘Well, “slithy” means “lithe and slimy”. “Lithe” is the same as “active”. You see it’s like a portmanteau—there are two meanings packed up into one word.’

**Ten Prairie Box points to anyone who contributes a few portmanteau words in the comments section.

Kira, the beautiful and sweet Siberian Husky that belonged to Jeremy’s parents, died last weekend. Jeremy bought her some 12 years ago and trained her well. When he left the country for a year in Europe, his parents took her home–and she lived happily with them from that point on.

Kira was absolutely one of the kindest dogs I’ve ever met. She was obedient, patient, and fun-loving, and she had the strongest hunting tendencies I’ve ever seen. My very first exposure to her is wrapped up in the beginning of my relationship with Jeremy. Jeremy wanted to get to know me better so, under the guise of relational youth ministry, he asked if my younger brother and I would join him on a Sunday afternoon trip to a state park with his dog. When he showed up at our house after church, I actually turned him down with the excuse of college homework or something (poor guy!) which left him now being relational with Andrew alone. But it was Kira who stole the limelight in that moment. In front of my house, she bound out of the Jeremy’s car and instantly trapped a squirrel in a sapling of a tree. A bunch of neighborhood boys surrounded the scene and cheered on the hunting wolf (as least that’s probably how they saw her). In no time at all, the squirrel was hopelessly caught in Kira’s strong jaw, squealing his pitiful squirrely death-squeal for help–which sent me running for the house. An empathetic animal-lover wuss all my life–I actually left the movie theater bawling when wolf got shot in Dances with Wolves–the dying squirrel sounds were more than I could handle. Ah, what a first impression from Kira!

The Husky played more of a role in my courtship with Jeremy as we successfully went on many walks through the dog run and other parks. I’ll always remember her joy at seeing Jeremy when we drove up to Bill & Karen’s house, her special invitation to come in the house one time each year (Christmas for a dog treat and bone), her sweet sniffing when meeting Livia for the first time, her gentleness with Livia for the past three years.

Kira has been a joy. She will be missed.

Franny & Zooey by JD Salinger – This book was a Christmas gift from my little brother Andrew. He reads more thoughtful literature like this all the time; I do so very rarely. It was a special treat to read Franny & Zooey, the equivalent of eating a steak dinner when I’m accustomed to a #2 on the McDonald’s menu.

You Can’t Make Me (But I Can Be Persuaded) by Cynthia Ulrich Tobias – A lot of my struggles in parenting since Livia turned three are related to the difference in personality types. I’m going to credit Tobias with something very important: she helped me see how my daughter operates. This is a valuable read for parents, teachers, friends… pretty much anyone who wants to intimately related to others!

The Zookeeper’s Wife by Diane Ackerman – A true story of a zookeeper’s family during World War II, this book will open your eyes to some fascinating and tragic events of the last century. Ackerman writes in such great detail of the Warsaw Zoo and the invasion of the German army that sometimes the reader has to press forward, with eyes a bit glazed over, to keep the story moving. Still, it’s a small price to pay for a book that’s highly worth your time.

I Was a Really Good Mom Before I Had Kids by Trisha Ashworth & Amy Nobile – I wanted this book because 1) I identified with the title, 2) I liked the cupcake cover, and 3) the back cover copy made me laugh. A quick and easy read, this is an exploration of modern motherhood and focuses on why moms today feel so frazzled. It basically comes down to expectations, really high and unrealistic ones that many of us shoulder on a daily basis. I’m already planning to share my copy with a few other women who feel the same way I do.

Me: [Trying to get the attention of the Blockbuster Dude who always ignores me] I’m looking for a movie called Bella.

Blockbuster Dude: Huh?

Me: Bel-la. The director has a Latin-sounding name. I couldn’t locate the film on Blockbuster Online.

Blockbuster Dude: [Using computer] We don’t have it.

Me: O-kay.

Blockbuster Dude: I’ve never even heard of it.

And then I sang my own little ditty about the lame ass guy at Blockbuster on the way home. Seriously, between not having Bella or Helvetica, and this unhelpful clerk, Blockbuster is making me crazy.