Bittersweet Goodbye
This week has been a long one. Long in terms of hours put in and busyness, yes. But also a long week full of goodbyes. After the first students move out, we always go out to watch the graduates process into the chapel on graduation day. We've done it every year, and the boys love to stand out there and cheer as the students file by. This year even Cora clapped her little hands. I stand there and choke back tears. I know what it's taken for some of these students to reach this milestone. We've struggled with them, watched them fall and rise again. I get a little more choked up each year.
After graduation, any students who are still here slowly make their exodus. Some will be back. Some will not. It's a week full of goodbyes and well-wishes.
I won't pretend that we aren't ready for the summer. We love the guys we live with, truly love them, but when the last resident moves out, we always crash and crash hard. This year we crashed a little sooner than usual--Micah caught his usual post-school-year bug on Sunday and I was down on Monday. After three weeks of seeing each other in passing, it will be good to have my husband all to myself again, and to enjoy a quiet, empty building (at least until the first summer conference moves in this weekend).
Still, as I watch our staff load up to leave today, I have a lump in my throat. These are the guys who have carried this hall, and many times this year, my family. They've supported my husband and loved my children and blessed me so often. Many of them are graduating this year, moving on. Some of them are getting married, some going on to graduate studies. A few are returning next year. But there will never be this group of people living and working together again. For three years I've contemplated that at the end of the spring semester. It's just so bittersweet.
So I guess this is my official goodbye to the Res Life staff of Scripture Hall this year. Not to sound melodramatic, but these are all the things I've had a hard time saying. This is the heart behind my weak, "Good bye! Have a great summer. I hope we can see you again soon." I truly do hope our paths cross again. I'll miss watching you grow and learn, seeing you challenge each other and support each other. My children will be desperate for you in a matter of hours, begging me to tackle them like you do or spin webs with them. You have been their heroes. I will miss seeing you all crowded in our living room on Tuesday nights. You have been the heart and soul of our hall this year. Thank you for serving so faithfully, for persevering when I know it would have been easier to give up. Thank you for seeing past yourselves to meet the needs of your residents, and especially of my family. In every "crisis" moment this year--and we've had a few!--it was you guys who stepped in. You filled in when Cora was in the hospital and prayed and cried with us. You took our kids when I broke my foot, brought me crutches, drove me home from the doctor's office, and made sure we had everything we needed. You provided breaks and laughter and prayers that we needed badly this year. We have been blessed by your presence. Blessed by you.
There's more I could say, but I will stop here. I'm already fighting back the tears. I can't tell you how proud we are of you guys, and how much we will miss you. You finished strong, all of you. You ran the race with grace and perseverance, and you are better men for it. Thank you for blessing your hall and our little family.
After graduation, any students who are still here slowly make their exodus. Some will be back. Some will not. It's a week full of goodbyes and well-wishes.
I won't pretend that we aren't ready for the summer. We love the guys we live with, truly love them, but when the last resident moves out, we always crash and crash hard. This year we crashed a little sooner than usual--Micah caught his usual post-school-year bug on Sunday and I was down on Monday. After three weeks of seeing each other in passing, it will be good to have my husband all to myself again, and to enjoy a quiet, empty building (at least until the first summer conference moves in this weekend).
Still, as I watch our staff load up to leave today, I have a lump in my throat. These are the guys who have carried this hall, and many times this year, my family. They've supported my husband and loved my children and blessed me so often. Many of them are graduating this year, moving on. Some of them are getting married, some going on to graduate studies. A few are returning next year. But there will never be this group of people living and working together again. For three years I've contemplated that at the end of the spring semester. It's just so bittersweet.
So I guess this is my official goodbye to the Res Life staff of Scripture Hall this year. Not to sound melodramatic, but these are all the things I've had a hard time saying. This is the heart behind my weak, "Good bye! Have a great summer. I hope we can see you again soon." I truly do hope our paths cross again. I'll miss watching you grow and learn, seeing you challenge each other and support each other. My children will be desperate for you in a matter of hours, begging me to tackle them like you do or spin webs with them. You have been their heroes. I will miss seeing you all crowded in our living room on Tuesday nights. You have been the heart and soul of our hall this year. Thank you for serving so faithfully, for persevering when I know it would have been easier to give up. Thank you for seeing past yourselves to meet the needs of your residents, and especially of my family. In every "crisis" moment this year--and we've had a few!--it was you guys who stepped in. You filled in when Cora was in the hospital and prayed and cried with us. You took our kids when I broke my foot, brought me crutches, drove me home from the doctor's office, and made sure we had everything we needed. You provided breaks and laughter and prayers that we needed badly this year. We have been blessed by your presence. Blessed by you.
There's more I could say, but I will stop here. I'm already fighting back the tears. I can't tell you how proud we are of you guys, and how much we will miss you. You finished strong, all of you. You ran the race with grace and perseverance, and you are better men for it. Thank you for blessing your hall and our little family.
