Goodbye to the Bartkoviches was beautifully team . . . . Mountains of the Moon resort; good food, swimming, wonderful rooms with hot showers; beautifully full of fellowship: many quiet conversations, lots of laughter, hilarious skits, game shows and raps and faux newspaper article readings; beautifully sad: tears, desperation and hope for the future. Most of us held ourselves together for most of the weekend but we still have many tears to cry. How can this be goodbye?? The slideshow Luke made of ten years of Bartkovich life in Uganda was a terrible tearjerker for all of us. David made a book of haiku for Kevin which also made me cry. There actually wasn’t much that didn’t make me cry. We crammed a lot of livin’ and lovin’ into a little more than 24 hours away at the resort; we left early Sunday morning, driving over the mountains to arrive into Fort Portal then began our return by midday on Monday as the Bart family headed on into Kampala and tomorrow, home to America. Pray them there.
My big brag was driving over the Mountains of the Moon by myself for the first time; a sort of symbolic gesture as the Bartkoviches leave, that I am embracing this life, moving into the difficult things with grace and strength because if God wills we are here for the long haul. Though it was the most difficult drive I’ve made I’m ready to do it again and thankful that as I plunge into life God is right beside me holding me up, sustaining me through.
As I thought and prayed through the sadness of saying goodbye to the Barts, I was reminded of the book The Gift of Pain (thanks Jolita!). Written by a man who worked with leprosy patients for many years the book vividly illustrates pain as the gift of life. Leprosy patients deterioration results from a lack of healthy pain. Diabetic patients are much the same. Because of the lack of pain, much greater destruction results. For me it was a helpful reminder; as the Barts leave we experience a lot of pain. That’s because our relationships with them are healthy and real and alive and the of tearing them causes healthy pain. I am thankful for that health, reality and alive-ness; and therefore thankful for the pain.