On Friday morning we woke up from our first, and last, slumber party.
We had had our coffee and a quick bite to eat.
The moving truck was packed. It was time to go.
For the first time in sixteen years it wasn't me who was moving.
But I was unpacking memories of my own....
I remembered the weeks before our move from Fort Worth. A lady from church encouraged me to be sensitive to those I was leaving behind. She reminded me that I was leaving with my family for a "great adventure" while my friends would have to learn to adjust to life with a Kellie-shaped void.
She was a women I respected and I took her words to heart; tucked them away gently... tiny little pearls I was saving for later... only I didn't know just when.
This was the week-- nearly seven year later.
Things are going to be so strange without my Friday-Lunch Bunch (which this summer turned into an often Wed-Thur-Friday Breaksfast/Lunch Bunch.)
There is a huge void that has settled in the Little Yellow House on The Hill, and its gonna be awfully hard to move around it.
3 comments:
Hang in there! Friendships are so very dear and precious and worth the pain of saying goodbye, but it still stinkin' hurts!
I think I may be in your very same situation in a few months. I love my friends. I hate saying goodbye.
Praying for you.
Oh, friend. Me, too.
I never really thought about what it feels like to be the one left because I'm usually the one leaving.
My friend leaves at the end of this month. Instead of starting to pull up the roots so it'll be easier when they go, our families are spending more and more time together. Which is where that quote you shared fits so perfectly. It's going to hurt, but I know it's worth it.
I'll pray for you because I know exactly how to pray. Because I'm right there with you.
Post a Comment