Tomorrow is our first faculty meeting of the year. I’m going to walk into the library, but I'm not going to be looking for anyone. I’m just going to sit down. And that’s how it’ll start. When the day is over, I’m not going to stop by room 179 to hear about stock quotes. I’m just going to walk out the doors. And that’s how it’ll end. It’s going to be different. It’s going to be a bit lonelier. It’s going to be sad.
I’m having trouble pulling myself together long enough to write this. Who wouldn’t? I remember when I first found out. It’s an odd thing to react to. On the one hand, all I can think about is myself, my feelings, my life, my workday. On the other hand, all I can think about is how right this is and how I’d never want to change it. The result is a very odd emotion, and I wouldn’t mind if I never felt it again in my whole life. You think I’m being dramatic, but that’s fine because if you know him, you know what I’m talking about. If you don’t, then I’m very sorry for you because you won’t get to for 3 and a half more years.
You can’t write this character up in a book, people wouldn’t believe it. And when I try to recreate the experience of knowing him, people don’t get it. When you’re with him, chances are you’re about to be in a story told for weeks to come. And if there’s a boat or some sort of sea-faring vessel involved, years to come. I can’t think of a better way to live a life.
He has his own sort of way of doing things, and even though people try, no one can ever blame him for it. Once you know him long enough, you find yourself revisiting a grin and the phrase “that’s about right” regularly. His decisions are completely unpredictable, yet never surprising. He teaches those around him adventure, integrity, and innovation. If something’s broken, you bet he can buy it off Craig’s list and fix it. If you need help, you bet he will be there to help you move for the 5th time. He’ll never tell you what you want to hear, but he’ll tell you what you need to hear. Over and over again. He has revealed parts of God’s character to me that I’d never thought about and taught me how to ask good questions.
He has shown me what it looks like to care deeply for people and in knowing their stories and histories. Once in Greece, he spent time researching the different icons. He picked one for each of his young life boys, and then we set off to go get them. Not a moment passed in the cab before he was digging into the life of the driver, language barrier be damned. This is what he does though. He has pushed me to invest in those around me more times than excuses I have. I’m going to miss that. No one else tells me to do that.
He has been constant, consistent, and resilient in the lives of kids around him even when they have been nothing more than inconsistent, rude, and uncommitted. And once married, he and his wife have been partners in ministry that I’ve not once taken for granted. They know what it’s supposed to look like. They’ve caught the vision, and that’s why they have to leave.
I’m not sure what I think about Seattle without them. I’m not sure I’ll like it as much. You’re thinking this is a bit morbid, even inappropriate. They're not dead after all. But God told me I’m not getting married in Seattle, so in June 2015, home will be somewhere else. So I know this is it besides fleeting visits here or there. I will never be able to interact in day-to-day life with them quite like I have been able to the past 5 years. This is a heavy thought for me, and I almost can’t grip it. If you know them, you know what I’m talking about. If you don’t, then I’m very sorry for you because you only have 4 days left.
Tomorrow it begins. CS Lewis says, “Crying is all right in its own way while it lasts. But you have to stop sooner or later, and then you still have to decide what to do.” I guess I have a choice—think about their absence or think about how blessed I was to have their presence. Here’s to the Rossers—a duo unlike any other. Nothing less than Kingdom seekers, nothing more than obedient. That’s about right.
To Life, L'chaim!
ReplyDelete