Several years ago, when my oldest grandson, Ben, was very attached to his Papa and me, he would get upset when it was time for him to leave our house to go home. He would get put into his parent's car screaming and crying. After he was secured into his car seat, and I had given him hugs and kisses & assured him that I would see him the next day, he would sniffle and say, "GrandMartha, wave me at the street." I would stand in the driveway and wave to him until his little face in the car window had disappeared down the street. I guess in his mind, it prolonged his face-to-face time with me just as long as possible. As he repeated that request, "Wave me at the street" time and time again, it became a sort of ritual.
Over the next few years, as Ben has grown to a great big boy of now six years old, he no longer (or least very rarely) gets upset when it's time to leave our house. But our ritual has remained. Ben's little brother, Will, picked up on the phrase pretty quickly when he started talking. So when it's time to leave, both boys have to say, "Wave me at the street!" And it not only is mandatory when they leave our house, it has become a routine if others are leaving our house, or when Papa and I leave their house. Someone from one of the families will say, "Wave me at the street." When our twin granddaughters, Ben and Will's cousins Carolann and Adeline, have been over for a visit and it's time for them to go, the boys will tell the girls, "Wave me at the street!" And the girls happily comply, putting down their car windows to giggle and wave and call out goodbyes.
In a few days, Terry will be officially retired from full-time ministry. We have been packing up the parsonage for the move. It's been both physically and emotionally tiring. We've been building a new house & have gone through all the decision-making and setbacks that can be part of that process. We've also been trying to decide what to do with all the books that he's used during over 20 years of ministry, and what to do with all the odds and ends of furniture that we've acquired over the years of living in various parsonages that won't fit in our new smaller home. We are both very eager to have this physical part of the move behind us.
The emotional part of our transition will not be any easier than the physical toil of our move. Saying goodbye to a church family and friends that we love is going to be quite difficult. It's begun already, as I've felt little pangs of sadness & find myself fighting the tears as I look out at the congregation from the choir loft & see faces of wonderful friends.
But we won't be leaving Shreveport. We're not moving a long distance away. And we're sure to see and to hear from our church friends fairly often, even if it's just running into one another at Kroger or Target. So when it's time to officially say goodbye on June 23, we won't have the feelings that Ben used to have when he was so small that he would miss us terribly and cry out to us so sadly. So if on Sunday you don't want to say goodbye (I know I don't!) join with us in our new family ritual of reassurance that we love each other and we'll be seeing each other again very soon:
"Wave me at the street!"
