Night before an auction

::written several months ago::

Dear sisters, 

Cousin S's comment, “Bittersweet but necessary” has rung in my mind all these months.  I imagine all of our emotions are all over the place.  I had my first ever migraine (complete with aura), and I’ve had a night of interrupted, fitful sleep with nightmares.  I imagine you all might have had physical symptoms of stress also.  I think it’s natural, but I also pray we all find healthy ways of dealing with the stress. 

It is right to grieve. It is right to acknowledge the loss, the huge loss, and the end of this season.  On the mission field, there’s a lot of talk about saying “goodbyes” well so you can have space to say “hello” well in the next place.  None of us are moving to a next place, but it is a new season, and so I pray we can say “goodbye” well, so that we can move on in a healthy way to the next season.  I found this lament (below) online which helped me.  Perhaps it will help you, too.  You might want to grab a Kleenex before you read it.  

Today & tomorrow (and the coming days) will be times to grieve, but I hope we each can find a way to celebrate, whether through creative writing, looking at photos, sharing memories, or just buying a bottle of sparkling grape juice and thanking God for His goodness on that land the past 124 years.  

Praying for a great auction & good neighbors in the community & a fair price & mostly that the Lord’s will be done, 

J~

Lament link: https://trevorsides.com/a-liturgy-moving-away-beloved-home/

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Father, you have made us for yourself
and our hearts are homesick
until they make their home in you.

In this home that we are now leaving,
we have experienced a foretaste
of that rest, that peace, that deep belonging,
that beloved grounded-ness which we will
one day know in full in your presence.

That is why we are right to grieve this change.
In between these walls, around this table,
underneath these trees and in this garden,
you have mercifully revealed to us
your deep and abundant goodness.

Pulling up roots hurts, Father.
Moving reminds us that we are yet pilgrims,
sojourners, way-finders in this beautiful but broken world.
Let our tears remind us of our true hope,
our forever home, that even now you are preparing for us.

Though our hearts are caught in the tension
between loss of what we love and excitement for what’s to come,
we are right to give you thanks
for all you have done here [name the address].
Thank you, Lord, for the friendships forged with our neighbors.
Thank you, Lord, for the love given and received
in this galaxy of warm places—
names and addresses of real people made in your image.
Thank you, Lord, for the meals shared. For the eggs borrowed.
For lives lived in close proximity,
in everyday inter-dependence.

Let our hearts find comfort and courage in the outrageous truth
that you, Jesus—creator, savior, King—are no stranger to moving.
In your adjective-defying love, you left your home
to make your home with us—to seek and to save
orphans like us, to settle us in the home of your presence.
We look forward to the day when the dwelling place
of God will be with man for all eternity,
where we will see you face-to-face.

You have new adventures planned for us,
new work for us to do in a new neighborhood with new neighbors.
We know that because you are with us
and because we are with each other,
our new destination
will become as much of a home as the one we’re leaving now.

We thank you for making all things new,
and because your promises are sure,
we know that you will go before us into this new
stretch of our pilgrimage, even as our hearts
long to be in our forever home, even as we look forward
to that safe lodging and holy rest that you have promised
to those who love you and seek your kingdom.

Amen.