Goodbye Makes Space for Hello

They say you never forget your first: your first job, first car, first kiss, first home. Why? Because something new, a non-repeatable milestone, is occurring. But every first comes wrapped in a reality we often conveniently overlook: It will one day require a goodbye. And goodbyes aren’t just endings, they’re sacred thresholds God often uses to form us.

In May, I said goodbye to my first class of students. After spending a decade in women’s ministry at my previous church, I never expected to love any group of people outside of my family more than I loved those women. And yet, within a few weeks of meeting those students and their families, I felt a similar deep, abiding love forming for them. It caught me off guard, and as C.S. Lewis says, I was “surprised by joy.”

Nine months later, I ugly cried as I said goodbye to each of them and prayerfully commissioned them on their journey to fifth grade and beyond. We had braved the unknown together—they as first-time fourth graders and I as a first-time teacher—and had become a family in the process.

A week ago, I said hello to my second class of students: twelve excited nine and ten year olds anxious to find their people and their way in fourth grade. As their “wilderness guide,” I explained our theme "Adventure Awaits,” talked about the mountains and valleys we would traverse together, and cast vision for what the year could look like if we journeyed together with our eyes fixed on Christ.

In God’s divine order, goodbyes make space for hellos. Sometimes we choose to leave something in order to purposefully walk into something new. And sometimes we’re unwillingly thrust from something dear and propelled into spaces and places we’re not prepared for. The change may gradually creep up on you, or it could be as abrupt as walking into a snowstorm wearing only your swimsuit. Whatever you call them—necessary endings, transitions, seasons of change—something is lost, but there is also an invitation to step into gain. Yes, this new season will be different, and it may well be worse. But, my friend, what if it’s better?

As I stood at my classroom threshold, shaking hands with each incoming student and posing for first-day photos, I spied my beloved fifth graders unpacking their backpacks just across the hall. A few smiled, some waved, and several weaved through the crowd to give me a hug.

Happy-sad tears filled my eyes, and it struck me: Perhaps it’s okay to stand in the hallway between goodbye and hello. After all, most of life is lived there. We enter rooms. We leave rooms. And in the journeying between rooms, across thresholds, and up and down hallways, we are transformed.

In a world full of “See you laters” and “Come on ins,” may you too find your people and your way. And blessed are you, living between goodbye, hello, and ultimately, “Welcome home!” (Rom. 15:7).

I lift up my eyes to the mountains—
    where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord,
    the Maker of heaven and earth…
the Lord will watch over your coming and going
    both now and forevermore.
- Psalm 121:1-2, 8