Held.

"This is what it means to be held.
How it feels when the sacred is
torn from your life And you survive.
This is what it is to be loved.
And to know that the promise was
When everything fell we’d be held."

This song by Natalie Grant took on so much meaning when it was played at a student in our youth ministry's funeral this spring. If you haven't heard it before, check it out on itunes- you won't be sorry you spent $.99 on it.

Last Saturday when we were on lunch break from installing the used theatre seats into the Epicenter, Jon's Dad (Mike) sat down next to me on the front lawn. We sat and talked for a really long time, and I can honestly say that was one of the most meaningful conversations I've had in a long time. Jon's birthday was the day before, so the whole family was in town to spend time together. The pain is still so fresh, yet he chose to spend his day working on the youth center that Jon was so looking forward to being apart of. I doubt Mike has any idea what an impact he makes on the people he talks to (as well as the rest of his family). He told me about the groups he is now involved with; grieving family support groups (within the church and with families that don't know the Lord), organ donor advocating, as well as the amazing involvement he still has at the school Jon attended (the students still flock to their house to spend time with Mike and Gwen). We also talked about how we cannot truly understand someone else's pain until we've been there personally... and that suffering can be a doorway to a powerful ministry (or despair).

I was blown away that Mike would sit down next to me, even though we'd never had a conversation longer than about 5 words before that day. He really blessed me with his outlook on life- real, without cliches, and full of peace. In the midst of his sadness, he poured unexpected wisdom into my life, and mine and Matthew's upcoming move to Oregon. Mike, if you ever read this- thank you.

I heard that Natalie Grant song on the radio tonight when I was driving home from Kelly's, and it really got me. Why does life have to be full of so many goodbyes? I can't help but feel a knot in my throat everytime I think about saying goodbye to people I love in two months. We'll visit, yeah, but it won't be the same. Lives are forever changing. Even if we stay in Willmar, one by one our friends would move away themselves. I'm trusting that God will carry me through this transition to Oregon in one piece. Being tossed back and forth from Minnesota to Oregon as a kid...this move is going to be really emotionally confusing for me. It's easier thinking about staying in Minnesota rather than reliving past hurt. Safety is not a good excuse, though, to hide behind doors that seemingly have been flung wide open for Matthew and I.

So when I sat in my car listening to that song, I had one of those rare glimpses of what Heaven will be like. No more death. No more sadness. No more goodbyes.