Many Partings: A Sniffle Over the End of the Staff Retreat
The worst part about wonderful weekends is that they are soon over... yes, the Fellowship has parted ways, and I'm a little heartsore over it. In case you haven't clued in, I'm referring to my Camp David comrades. The insane, lovable brothers and sisters with whom I have laughed, cried, sung, played, worked, prayed, and who somehow manage to love and accept the not-always-lovable me.
We had an amazing retreat weekend, in spite of the cold, rainy weather. We discussed the role of women in the church, spiders, guillotines, and everything in between. We quoted the Bible, and we quoted Julian Smith. We laughed a lot, cried a little (or at least, I did), and got a very small amount of sleep. And now it's over. We have said our goodbyes and gone our separate ways, and we will not, in all probability, be together again for many months. Or maybe never.
That thought has been haunting me, and casting an even greater gloom over my soul. Times change. People change. Life goes on, and seems to get busier and busier every year. What if this is the last time? I wondered as I stood back and surveyed my lovely friends. What if someone moves away? What will it be like when everyone starts getting married off, and becomes busy with families of their own?
Things must change, but I don't want them to. I'm holding on to the past with both hands, and feeling my grip start to weaken. Don't be silly. I tell myself. What is now the past used to be a scary future at some point and time. Change is okay. Really. I usually succeed in moving forward and accepting the changes, but just now I'm feeling a bit blue and very nostalgic. So I will close with the hope that you will pardon this sad little moan.