Dayenu

If all He did was invite me to Himself. To new life, freedom, forgiveness, and joy, Dayenu. 
If He then ushered me into His community—caring, quirky, and honest—Dayenu.
If He called me, noticed me, gifted me, and honored me with a call to join His reaching work—Dayenu.
If His call to me only involved deep soul preparation, stripping, refining, sharpening, discipline for His purposes, Dayenu.
If He took me to the other side of the globe to further teach me, humble me, and use me to display His glory, Dayenu.
If He blessed our family through displacement, dysfunction, discovery, and delight, Dayenu.
If He gave me voice, words, and reach into the unreached; prayers that penetrate darkness and move away evil, Dayenu.
If He let me see transformation in myself and those I’m serving, overcoming conflict and despair, Dayenu.
If He continued to draw me and my co-laborers to His unfathomable riches, Dayenu.
If His plans take me from this place of sprouting growth, leaving unseen marks and ripples with always more need, Dayenu.
If He invites me to more by leaving, by going back home, by opening the way before us, Dayenu.
“You scrutinize my path and my lying down, and are intimately acquainted with all my ways.” —Ps 139:3

When we landed on the field in 1986, the furthest thing from our minds was how we would finish. When, where, and why it would be. We'd seen difficult endings, well-planned ones, premature ones, forced and flippant ones. We'd experienced moving from one field or phase to begin another, ending roles and taking on others with more depth, responsibility, and burden.

Each ending had its inner work and shifts. At one point, we clarified the goal of our work, starting with the outcome we'd hoped for and working backward in steps to the present. While it was a good exercise, reality is often quite different from expectations. When 40 years of endings and beginnings hover in the blinking sign passing by, it’s good to stop.

In The Emotionally Healthy Leader, Peter Scazzero writes, “All endings require inner work.”¹ Several years ago, in a crisp July breeze off the North Atlantic Ocean, I stood shaking, watching our beautiful daughter walk toward the arbor she and her dad crafted for her wedding day. A month later, on a balmy Houston day, our son beckoned with his eyes his bride to the altar. Then, a short few months after that, another son longingly awaited the love of his life’s hand in the December beauty of Rome, GA. Within six months, three of our four kids married! (Our second son had found his love five years before and was expecting our first grandchild.) These poignant life moments were, at the same time, exhilarating and disorienting. The endings that year for me were weighty.

These events meant the end of family as we had known it. The end of the assumed holiday gatherings as they had been. This ended the era of coming alongside our single adult kids as they found their way. Though many sweet beginnings are embedded in these life changes, I had to let the losses sink in.

We had recently handed over our 10-year leadership position to a competent colleague as we sensed God’s leading, pulling us toward deeper local involvement. The hand-off took place smoothly with joy. The lives we were part of leading, the feeling of being in the know, the beautiful and brutal issues at hand in our region, were now off our radar.

Feeling the relief of a new, energetic leader in place, we also felt the dizziness of the change. Who are we now? How do we relate to those we previously led? How do we best steward the things God has entrusted to us? Processing these questions, we floundered, staying in place geographically while passing on our position of leadership.

We had also said goodbye to my father-in-law. His death hit me like a scowl. I wasn’t close to him, yet respected the godly and stalwart life he led. I did see, after wading through, with my husband and his siblings, the relics of his life, that there was so much more to him than I knew. I felt ashamed of having somewhat put him in a box; I regret that I didn’t find out more about him, though I was unsure how I could have. The expressions on faces in old pictures felt piercing and questioning. It became a wandering ogre of thought mulling how things could’ve or should’ve been; thinking of our absences and lack of engagement in each other’s lives, primarily because of a half a globe of distance away. The creep of regret was subtle and spreading, wanting attention. So, I wrote, prayed, talked, and cried. And began a practice of handing the mess to the One who redeems messes. The One who sits with us in the mire and rearranges us as he holds out his hand to walk us out. I’m thankful that even in the mire we can still have his shalom.

As we now face leaving this land—the majestic mountains, the colorful, rich fare of the markets, the resilient, hospitable people making their way in this world—we are reminded of the small part of history we get to be. The ripples of our lives are beyond what we know.

This final move from being on the field to the strange and unusual country called America—a place very different from the America we left 40 years ago—is a crossing into another culture. Most of our adult lives have been overseas. Facing this is daunting. We are asking many who have gone before us. Some groan, some shake their heads, some give great advice.

As we explore what re-entry is, receive coaching, and ask each other questions, we feel the tug of both worlds. We hope to continue some of our work remotely. We have plans and dreams of where and how we’d like to serve in our later years. But the immediate task of leaving is before us as we walk the transition bridge into unknown territory, losing outward identities while anchoring to our foundational identity.

In the leaving, in the loss, I’m noticing his surrounding invitation, like the one to the exiles in Babylon; the invitation to embrace where I am now, with everything in me; the stage, the age, the limits, and the opportunities. Recognizing and naming regrets, disappointments, and the sense of not being needed is helpful and cleansing. Naming and celebrating the victories is therapeutic. We cherish the new and energetic ones he’s bringing with their unconventional, creative ways of living and working here. Affirming, empowering, blessing them, welcomes God’s continued plan here. We were privileged to be part of his mighty army in opening an unreached place and to see the sprouting fruit that few can claim as their own doing.

As I accept that invitation, I’m lured into the next adventure with him if he takes me home to start something new in me or through me, Dayenu!