I read it and my breath caught in my chest as I began to cry.
02/11/10
Dear Erin,
Somewhere around a year from now you will be reading this from a plane back to the United States. I'm not sure how you're feeling right now, but I'd guess you are probably sad, nervous, excited, overwhelmed and crying.
It's been almost four months and already I am in love with this country, these people and this community. It has not been easy- in fact you spent many moments wondering why you're here, why you can't seem to ever get anything right and thinking about how this adventure is hard.
But this adventure is also a beautiful one- full of moments that have filled your heart with joy and thanksgiving and delight.
Like the time you went for a walk and found the sparrows in the snow. Or the time you had your students over to decorate Christmas cookies and ended up making soup together. Or when Od and Taivaana came over for Christmas Eve and you danced in the kitchen and sang in the light of Advent candles. Or when the little girl in blue boots sat in your lap during worship, whispering to you in Mongolian. Or when the sunrise stopped you in the middle of the icy hill, making it impossible for you to move as you lifted your hands in prayer.
These moments have shown you God here and enlarged your heart.
I forgot I had written this letter to myself. I forgot that I had intended to keep adding memories to the letter as months went on. I forgot to finish what I had begun because life became life and time went on without my permission.
It ends there, in the middle of an empty page. Mid-thought, mid-letter, with no conclusion or farewell.
It hurts to read those words, just as it fills me with thanksgiving at the same exact moment.
There is no end to the letter because there is no end.
I'm getting on a plane, but the story isn't over.
And so the tears will fall on a new blank page of possibility and struggle and hurt and hope,
a continued letter to myself,
a gentle reminder to remember,
to hold on
and to walk forward
because it isn't over yet.
there is no limit to what the heart can hold.
1 comments:
wow. i needed this today - in the throes of my own transition... my own goodbyes. the paradox of joy and sadness... how to live with both? I think you hinted at part of the answer... we do it with thanksgiving; rejoicing over all that He has given, though it hurts to let it go. I know you wrote this a while ago, but I read it today... when I needed it most.
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