Transitions

Around the local government unit where I work, there were a few pairs of eyes having their tears wiped away with Kleenex today. Other pairs of eyes, those of the non-crying variety, belonged to people who felt like things just won't quite be the same anymore, now that S. is leaving us.

S. had been working in my department for a couple of years when I joined. She is a woman in her early twenties who has, well, that sort of delightful disposition. If she ever had a really bad day, you wouldn't know it. Always smiling, always pleasant, ever professional in her dealings with employees and citizens. Ours is one of the more public functions in local government: we're the face of government for thousands of citizens, and S. was courteous to everybody, no matter how rude, abrasive, sarcastic, or generally idiotic some people can be. It wasn't an act; I worked with her long enough that if she was not what she first appeared to be, the reality would have made itself known.

She moved on because her middle-aged parents (long-time residents of the area served by our local government) finally decided enough was enough and they were moving away from the frenetic pace and high cost of living around here. They've settled in a university town in another state, and now her Latin papa is calling for his daughter to rejoin the familia and finish her education. He'll help. And he misses her. And, she announced with plenty of tears of her own as she gave notice, she misses her family terribly.

Today, everybody in the building found the time to stop by and ask about her plans and tell her they'll miss her and be sure to write and all that stuff; many came really close to telling her how much she meant to them.

Why is it that we wait until people are gone, or at least nearly so, to say the things we've held in our hearts for so long?

The other transition is only an anticipated one. I've been praying with my accountability partner G. for over a year now for God's leading into a vocational change, or at least a change of venue for the vocation he's following (for my purposes here, he's an IT guy). For a while I thought things were going in the direction of another, better job in the same field, one that wouldn't require him to move his family away from their home and our church. A turning point in his thinking occurred when his friend from college moved to Turkey to help spread the gospel in a tentmaking capacity. Now G. is contemplating a move to Germany with a small U. S. government contractor. G's wife speaks the language while he doesn't, but his lack of the language doesn't seem to be in any danger of stopping them. He wants to make his life count for the gospel; to be a witness where the good news isn't widely known. (I would think post-modern Germany, the erstwhile Cradle of the Reformation, is a great choice) The job offer is a bit nebulous right now (they have to get the contract to offer the job, and they need the right person to get the contract, ad infinitum) but in God's providence it appears likely my friend will depart these shores in just a few months.

I'm not eager to see him go. He is my friend, and as with S. above, things won't be the same without him. And yet, how dare I stand in his way?