Dear Daughters,

            Once again I am in the middle of boxes, piles, decisions, and emotions.  Boxes of things to be thrown out or given away, piles of memories to be sorted through, decisions of what goes where, and emotions scattered all across the landscape. 

            After living for almost six years in the beautiful state of Idaho, learning to be caretakers for Grandma and Grandpa and sitting with them as they took their final breaths, we are almost packed up and ready to move back to Michigan.  It’s difficult to leave after finding new friends, renewing ties with so many relatives, and experiencing the many challenges connected with the end of the precious lives of my parents. 

            Even though we have moved over 10 times in our marriage, it never gets easier.  I have said hello and good-bye to more friends than I can remember, and every time there are tears of farewell, tears of remorse for what I have lost, a breaking heart for what could have been and wasn’t.

            I guess I could have chosen not to love.  Not to open my heart to new friends, new experiences, a different culture and landscape. But that alternative doesn’t look at all pleasant to me.  Because I dislike the grief of saying that dreaded word good-bye, perhaps I should simply say,

            God be with you till we meet again.

            As CS Lewis wrote many years ago:

            To love at all is to be vulnerable.  Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken.  If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal.  Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements.  Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness.  But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change.  It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.  To love is to be vulnerable.   

            So we leave with heavy hearts, joy-filled hearts, broken hearts and hearts full of anticipation to what God has in store for us in Michigan.  It will be lovely to live near all of you our daughters and families, while at the same time looking forward to friends we will  come to know and love as well.

            I am reminded of the beauty and struggle of faithfulness, highlighted in marriage, as we prepare to move.  Though Dad and I have had arguments during the process of this move – differing opinions of what stays what gets thrown away and what comes with us, we fought for love, for understanding and for grace – a battle not easily won, but so worth the fight.

            The rugged beauty of Idaho parallels my emotions throughout the years we’ve spent here.  There are dry dusty deserts, high beautiful mountains, lush fertile valleys, slow snaking rivers alongside brilliant cascading waterfalls, all typically accompanied by azure blue skies.

            There have been times I’ve felt dry and desolate as I watched Grandpa and Grandma fail and eventually breathe their last …

The mountaintop times of celebrating new friendships and then loss as I’ve watched those same friends move away…

Learning to trust God in the valleys, walking through previously uncharted territory when dealing with dementia in Grandma, becoming a mother figure to my own mom…

The simple pleasures of picking grapes, blackberries, apples, plums, cherries and roses all because of Grandpa’s vision of planting a small twig of a tree or a grapevine knowing someday it would yield a bountiful harvest…

Watching the careful pruning Grandpa would always do in his garden, knowing that old wild vines and overgrown trees would never grow beautiful fruit.  They had to be trimmed, the old limbs cut off till it sometimes looked as if they were hopelessly dead, yet in just a little while new green shoots and leaves would be flourishing…

So much to learn in this cycle of life, of living, growing and dying – yet, all the while knowing that Jesus is walking ahead of us, a lamp unto our feet and a light unto our path, leading the way he has planned for us to go.

            God is good and His will is that we live responsibly today and trust Him for tomorrow.  It’s hard, it hurts, but I know it’s the only way that will bring joy.  So, to my dear friends I’m leaving in Idaho and have yet to meet in Michigan,

            May the road rise to meet you,

            May the wind be always at your back

            The sun shine warm upon your face

            The wind blow soft upon your fields.

            And until we meet again,

             May God hold you in the palm of His hand.

                                                (The Old Irish Blessing) 

Love, Mom