I have a lamp from you.
It’s not garish; it’s not bright.
It has no purpose beyond ambient light.
I’ll add it to the others:
The lamps from sisters and mothers.
Their presence in my home
A subtle form of tombstone.
And their epitaph reads:
“A friend was once here,
A heart so dear.
She brightened my life with laughter and tears.
She taught me to open my home and my heart,
Taught me to love Jesus with every part
Of my mind, soul, and strength for all of my days,
But now she is gone. We have parted our ways.
Her love led her here, now her love leads her out,
My sister, my friend, devoted throughout.
Now all that remains is a bit of her light–
A glimmer to shine in this lonely, dark night.”
Oh, why do they come? And why must they go?
Why do I stay? Sometimes I don’t know.
We love and we lose and we love yet again.
Can this wounded heart take another lamp in?
Goodbyes here feel as fierce as the grave–
A chasm that opens where a bridge once was made.
We’ve been severed by an ocean too deep and too wide.
We won’t be the same–I know, I’ve tried.
So I let go, as I know I must.
I release you to the only One I trust.
We’ve said goodbye,
Yet I continue to cry.
So tonight I’ll turn on a lamp or three
And thank God for each memory.
These lamps still shine–
You did not die.
But you did leave a light for me.
Dedicated to Cy, Corinne, and Julie whose light graced my life for a while and whose lamps now grace my home, and to all the other dear friends I’ve said goodbye to over the last 16 years of life as a missionary. Our time together will always outshine the shadow of our goodbye.
No Comments