Looking Up

a liturgy for transitions in the leaving

I glance up

I don’t want to think about what’s to come.

I’m too busy.
There are too many things on my list.
Last meals,
last hangouts,
giving final exams,
grading, 
packing and shipping,
squeezing in one last trip
and deciding who to see and when; 
interviews for new positions, 
goodbyes to be said, 
notes to be written and the list goes on.

Maybe I can process next week, 
next month, next semester 
oh wait 
never mind.

Again, I glance up

Where are You? What’s going on? I mean I know the logistics, but how did we get here? Ok, I know that too, and yet, why does it often feel like I am constantly losing 
someone or something, 
a teammate, 
a neighbor, 
a student, 
a colleague, 
a close friend, 
a family member 
It’s exhausting this loss; I feel 
Exhausted.

In my bones, in my marrow, in my Heart…
sometimes feels like it may turn inside out. Maybe it has, is it still there? 
It must be. It’s hurting.  

Father? What are You doing? You must be doing something, right? 
Aslan’s always on the move. 
So again, I lay down these years,
memories and special ones,
trusting that every 
cup of tea or coffee,
every spicy hotpot,
every walk around campus,
every hand of Uno,
every English Corner,
every cafeteria meal,
every bike ride,
every bowl of noodles and dumplings,
every KTV song,
every hour studying language,
every story heard and shared,
every tear shed and hand held,
and every laugh experienced

served and is still serving Your purpose.
Future memories will also serve
Your purpose.
It’s hard to walk in this ‘new’ way, back towards a country I haven’t known in years and away from the people You have taught me how to love.

I look up

You say you are with me, that I am not alone.
You’ve said when I experience
this specific valley
that You’ll bring me comfort.
This was and is still Your promise.
You’ve kept it before,
and I’m holding You to it again.
Thank You, for that bittersweet reminder. I never would’ve thought the memory of a past pain could become a potent salve.  

Please do it again.

Don’t allow me to focus on me, become distracted or wallow in anything other than You. Create a desire for You in me again and again.

Looking up smiling, I’m reminded of Your faithfulness. Even as I cry, sometimes without tears, I’m looking for You. As I saw You before, help me to see You again.

Amen.

Further exploration

You can find a printable version of this liturgy here: Looking Up.

Post Author

Edwina has lived in China for 14 years.

Series Editor

Erika McIntyre

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Image designed by Elaine Liu.