you needed somebody, but you didn't need me.

“You needed somebody, but you didn’t need me.”

That’s what Sarah told me, and she’s right.  I needed someone’s help, but it didn’t have to be her help. 

I’ve been thinking about that as I think about graduating from Calvin.  During my time at Calvin, this community has helped me grow and thrive in so many ways.  I needed a community of people to help me learn this, but I could have found a community somewhere else. 

The same is true for the churches I’ve gone to.  It’s true for the jobs I’ve had.  It’s true for the ensembles I have been a part of.  It’s true for the places I’ve lived. 

The thing is: Sarah was the person who helped me learn about myself and how to live well.  Calvin was the community that helped me to grow.  Calvin was the community with so many people who taught me and showed me how to live fully.  COS was the church that provided stability in my life when everything else was chaotic.  EGM is the church that is stretching me to use gifts that I never imagined I would.  The box office has been the best job in the world.  My time in the orchestra and in the gospel choir was important.  The trip to China with the orchestra was one of the first times I felt really grown up.  Living on 3vR taught me that grades aren’t really so important; it brought specific people into my life.  Living in Eastown challenged my faith and stretched my views of neighborhood and living in community and living sustainably, among other things. 

Hearing “You needed somebody, but you didn’t need me,” is freeing because it means that I can still live, even when people leave, surroundings change, seasons pass.  At the same time, it sends a little stab of pain to my heart; it makes me just a little sad because I want these people to know how very important they are to me and how much of a difference they have made in my life. 

So, no, I didn’t need you, Sarah, but you were the person I was given, and in that sense I did need you.  You helped me learn about myself and living well and living fully and so many other things.  What you did was important.  You are important.  I am so grateful. 

Thank you, Sarah.  Thank you, Calvin College, my pastors and professors and bosses and friends.  Thank you, COS and EGM.  Thank you, for being the person I needed.

invisible strings

I'm at the beginning of a season of leaving... of others leaving me and of me leaving people and places.

I hate it.

As someone who doesn't particularly like change in the first place, coming to the end of my time at Calvin is daunting, intimidating, terrifying.  And I know that this is how life works.  I understand that.  I know that seasons come to an end and that what has been was good and what is coming will be good, too.  And when I tease out all of these worries and anxieties about the future, I become less scared, but I become more sad. I think my worry and my fear keep me from being sad, or at least hide the sorrow.  I don't think that's how it should be.  I can't stay in the sorrow, I can't wallow in the sadness, but I should and must acknowledge it.  It is real.  It is legitimate.  It is good.

Last week, my counselor read me a story, The Invisible String, by Patrice Karst. It was about love connecting everyone together, no matter how far apart they may be.  And when someone misses me, their "love travels all the way along the string until I feel it tug on my heart, and when I tug it back, they feel it in their hearts."  At the end of the story, the children, "from deep inside, could now clearly see... no one is ever alone."  And this struck me.  I hadn't expected the book to end that way, but I think that deep down, it's how I wanted it to end.  Because I understand that.  I understand the idea of a tugging on my heart, sometimes almost physically.  I understand the fear of being alone.  I understand feeling alone.  And this children's story is probably one of the most helpful things that Sarah and I could have done that day.

So as the good byes begin, I am sad and I am thankful for the time that we shared and the strings that will keep us connected, no matter how far we may be from each other.