In a sea of sunburnt tourists. “We hope you’ve enjoyed your stay on the islands.” Go.
Windy City. Winter clothes waiting. Warm heart. Come.
The Sears Tower shrinks behind me. 55 extends for miles. Go.
The Arch glows. The gateway to homemade meals and familiar faces. Come.
3 quirky safety videos, a sprint through Houston, a sandwich in LAX. Go.
Lights twinkling in the middle of the Pacific. Come.
The coming and the going doesn’t feel so patterned, rhythmic, and simplistic though. The heart gets involved both beautifully and painfully, and time never seems like enough. The going comes to soon and the coming not soon enough. I wrestle with time like I can control it. The best moments though are the ones I allow myself just to be, phone put away, watch-face ignored, talking story, whether I’m in the midst of coming, going, or simply staying.
All the coming and going doesn’t necessarily get easier, but it becomes a part of life that’s better embraced than resented. It’s a part of all our lives. People come. People go. What was once anticipated becomes memory.
Through it all an Anchor remains. “Come to me,” He says. “Go,” He commands. In all my coming, may I come to Him first. In all my going, may I go, because He has sent me. When it’s time to stay, may I stay as He sees fit.