tear (târ)
v. tore (tôr, tr), torn (tôrn, trn), tear·ing
1. To pull apart or into pieces by force; rend.
2. To separate forcefully; wrench
3. To divide or disrupt
That ache has started.
It’s familiar to me now, so it doesn’t catch me off guard. And I’ve gone through it enough times to know that it’s temporary; that once we get back to Tanzania and life resumes to normal, that I will feel okay again.
We leave two weeks from tomorrow. It’s that season of “lasts” right now. Last visits, last shopping trips, last Taco Bell runs, last times to the park. A season of limbo–that feeling of not belonging anywhere. It’s like standing on the precipice between two worlds. It’s stressful and anxious and I usually don’t sleep very well.
Worse: it’s the season of good-byes.
It feels like ripping a band-aid off of soft skin. Gil said to me last night, “I feel like we come here long enough to realize what we’re missing, and then we leave again.”
There’s just no way around it–it’s hard.
And though the good bye is not forever, now that we have children, it sort of feels that way. Because a year or two can go by in our lives, and not much changes. But a year or two goes by in the life of my children, and everything changes.
It’s loss, really. Not permanent loss, of course–not as tragic as that. But loss of memories. Family vacations and birthdays and Christmases that won’t be spent together. Knowing that even with internet and phone calls and cards, an ocean and two continents separate us. And when we come back, those years can’t be bought back. Loss.
Of course, I know all those things about why we’re going and God’s sovereignty and how He brings beauty from ashes. And I believe it. I do not grieve without hope.
But the sadness is there. It will remain a lump in my stomach for the next few weeks. It will get better again, I know that. But that doesn’t really lessen the pain right now.
How I long for that Day to come. That last Day, when there will no longer be any good byes.
M&B
Sweet friend…I will keep your and your precious family in my prayers especially over the next two weeks. I remember the pain of saying goodbyes… We love your family! Your name comes up in our home often..we have so much respect for you guys. I actually gave your names and blog to a friend this past weekend for her kids to study about you for an Awana assignment. God is holding you always, but I am praying you will "feel" that particularly during this time.
The Malmgaard Family
Dear Amy, I am so sorry that you have to do this. I wish I had something better to say than, "I totally know what you're going through." I wish I had a cure but I don't. All I can say is that I'm looking forward to seeing you, until it's my turn to say the goodbyes, although I know that doesn't lessen the pain, I know. Will keep you guys in my prayers, and I just want to say that I think you're so awesome for actually leaving America and coming back here to teach us. You have no idea how much that means to me (and loads of other people too). God bless. Love you and see you soon 😉
Amy Medina
Bethany–thanks so much. We miss you! And feel free to pass along our email to your Awana friends–we are experts at giving our favorite Bible verse to Awana kids. 🙂
Cecilie–there is joy in knowing that we will see you soon! 🙂 Thanks for loving us.
Tumi's Bibi
Thank you for eloquence in expressing life experience! Thank you for making the difficult choices that you do and for being loving parents to Grace and Josiah. Hope comes through and tugs at my heart when you write so honestly. Our prayers go with you…
Heather Pelczar
Wow. i don't know that I would have ever out that so honestly and beautifully at the same time if I had experienced it. Thanks be to God that we can trust and believe and hope in that final day! Until then, I wish I could hug you for a good long time.