When it Doesn't Hurt Anymore

 When we left southern Indiana two years ago, (A) and I made a promise to each other that we would never turn down an invitation to return to the area for speaking engagements or ministry events.  So when the invitation came for me to speak at a women’s breakfast in the area, I didn’t hesitate to say “yes.”  It was great to be speaking again as COVID cancelled all my other events that were planned this year.  And it was especially wonderful to walk in the church and be greeted by several dear friends whom I hadn’t seen in a long time.  But here was the best part… it didn’t hurt.  You see, for the last two years, nearly every trip to the area has been bittersweet.  It is always wonderful to see friends and a treat to eat favorite restaurants, its nostalgic to drive by the places we used to frequent and travel the routes that used to be our regulars, but it still always hurt.  Amid the good, there was always a sting of pain for what we left, a heartache for what we had lost, and a wonder what might be going on if we were still there. 

 

After a lovely morning with the ladies’ group, I took off down some familiar country roads to begin an afternoon packed with visits.  The particular road I was driving took me within ½ a block of the elementary school I left for our move.  I loved the staff there, the students and families there, the layout of the building, the community that supported it, and I had the world’s best grade level partner.  I looked forward to my own children attending school there, and truthfully hoped that would be the building I would retire from.  At first, I planned to just stay on the road, but in a split second decision at the stop sign, I turned and slowly drove the block that wraps around the school building.  It brought back a thousand wonderful memories.  Days that made me smile, days that pushed me as an educator, memories of playground duty discussions with my grade-level partner that helped me work through curriculum snags, classroom management struggles, and even parenting advice from an experienced “boy mom.”  And as I turned back on the main road it hit me, I had been covered with waves of joy, and for the first time, driving by my beloved school didn’t make me cry.

My next visit was to our next-door neighbor.  She is so much more than just a neighbor and friend, she was always like having my own mama next door to help me.  And driving to her house also meant driving by ours.  I will admit, I slowed down to be nosy and take it in, as I always do when I drive that way to visit her.  The new owners have changed several things about the look of “our” yard, but the outside of the house still looks the same.  It is the house where we lived for 9 years, the first home we owned, the place were we celebrated and were defeated, where we brought home our first baby, and buried a beloved dog.  Usually driving by takes my breath away and makes me ache, but for the first time, I smiled with sweet memories and then thought of how our life now had totally outgrown that house.  The busy stage our boys are in would have been incredibly cramped there, and there was no barn for a pony.  For the first time, it didn’t hurt.

 

The rest of the day was full of wonderful visits, a favorite restaurant stop, and an evening of fall fun with our closest friends and their kiddos.  We spent several hours together catching up on each other’s lives as the kids played and played.  I could go on for days about the depth of those friendships, but I will also admit that those get togethers have always been hard for me too, because saying good-bye is so incredibly painful and I usually cry for the first part of the way home.  But on Saturday night, for the first time, I left with my heart full, and a smile on my face.  For the first time, instead of crying about what we lost, I was so thankful for what we DIDN’T lose.  Yes, distance steals the amount of time we used to spend together, but two years has proven that distance can’t steal the friendship we share together.  The forever bond we have is unchanged, and the limited time makes the visits that much more precious.

 

I never thought the day would come when the mess would become a message of hope, when the hurt would be replaced with thankfulness for what we had and shared, or when the pain would be a memory instead of a crippling stab.  But on Saturday, I was overwhelmed with joy to find myself in that spot.  The Lord has redeemed it all, and my heart is so very thankful.

 

“Praise the Lord, my soul, and forget not all his benefits- who forgives all your sins and heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the pit and crowns you with love and compassion, who satisfies your desires with good things and your youth is renewed like the eagle’s.” Psalm 103: 2-5