So, I kind of had my last day volunteering at Degage this week...

It has been a day a long time coming... and yet, it was so difficult.

A few years ago, I was spending a season listening purposefully to God. I realized that I didn't' really know the difference between his voice and mine... they sounded a lot alike in my head. So I told God that I was going to spend a month and just do whatever I felt like he was asking... even if it didn't make sense. (ha ha! I had no idea where THAT one was leading... did I??) Week two found the word "degage" bouncing around in my head. I didn't even know what Degage was... but I called. I took the tour. I signed on the dotted line (Bridgette, was there actually a dotted line?) figuring I'd be flipping pancakes and serving coffee. Instead Bridgette asked if I would want to work at the referral desk.

So, I hang out at a desk there at Degage.

... which is funny if you know me at all.

Me, at a desk.

I usually have my shoes off and am curled up in my twirly chair, elbows on the desk, head in my hands, leaning in toward the person sitting in the chair across from me, listening to a story. Lots of listening.

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A long time ago I decided that I wasn't the kind of person who was going to know all the answers... where to get funding for a bus ticket home to Ohio, or how to fill out the mounds of paperwork that goes with an FIA application... but I AM the kind of person who is honored to work through the process with you and we can figure it out together. So for more than two years, we've been figuring it out together. Figuring out how to pay for prescription drugs... figuring out how to get a state ID when you have no paperwork proving you are who you say you are. Figuring out where there is a safe place to sleep for the night.

We've filled out applications and created resumes together. We've waded through legal confusion and called family members who haven't heard from you in years. We've found work and apartments and gotten steel toes boots for your new job. We've cried at the injustices of life on the streets. We've laughed at silliness and pure joy. We've had deep conversations, the kind that live inside your bones. I've been yelled at, cursed at, proposed to and kissed on the neck. I've bought more beaded bracelets than even my two girls can wear.

But now... it is time to say goodbye. We have only a few more weeks before we leave for our cross cultural training school... and then only a few weeks after that until we hope to be leaving for South Africa.

It is time to begin our goodbyes.

Time to begin making space for those goodbyes to happen well.

I'll talk about what is next on the list later... right now I just need to mourn this goodbye for awhile.

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Chad is taking my place at the desk. He is a good guy with an easy smile and a big heart. He'll do great. Chad isnt' going to be able to be there for these first few weeks of the new year... so I just might fill in for him. You know, just so the desk won't sit empty.

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Besides, some goodbyes take a couple times before they really stick.