The Grace of Goodbyes

I grew up just down the road from a naval air station. Alongside the soundtrack of P-3 Orions and EA-6B Prowlers roaring through the skies, my childhood was filled with a steady rotation of two-year friendships. No sooner did a fun playmate show up at church or school than she and her family were whisked away to their next station of duty: Japan. Virginia. Guantanamo Bay. Texas. We learned to dig deep with new friends right away, because today was all we could count on.

As I entered my teens, the turnover proved profitable in the babysitting department—continual job security courtesy of the U.S. Navy. Prowler balls, command ceremonies, and extended deployments all required childcare for families living far away from relatives. And just as soon as one set of kids outgrew the need for me, five more moved to town to fill my books once again. 

It was exciting—you never knew who you’d meet next—but also heartbreaking. I can’t count the times we huddled on the concrete stoop outside our little blue house, hugging and waving off close friends. Babies who’d been birthed here, peers we’d played dolls and done Bible studies alongside, toddlers who’d turned into school-age kids across all the Friday nights I’d tucked them into bed. And now, they were gone—without any likelihood of ever returning. A few we’d see again when successive tours brought them back, but for most, goodbye was forever—perhaps minus a yearly Christmas card.

As much as we dislike them, farewells are a simple fact of life. Soon enough, they come for us all, disrupting normality and leaving us crying in their wake. But rather than simply resigning ourselves to the inevitable, we can learn to look for the graces woven inside every ending.

Goodbyes Reflect Good Gifts

Grieving a loss means there’s been something valuable worth losing. We don’t mourn things that have been insignificant to our lives; we let the big fat tears roll precisely because those people, opportunities, or seasons of life have been so very precious to us. We have something to miss, which means sorrow and thanksgiving can run parallel.

Behind that disappearing school bus on the first day of kindergarten lie all the treasures of our child’s baby days—chubby thighs, first words, extended playtimes and snuggles on the living room floor. Good gifts. Beyond that college drop-off are a multitude of daily interactions now come to a close—inside jokes, late-night conversations, the front-row seat to our teen’s beautiful “becoming.” Good gifts. Underneath those tears we cry at a friend’s unexpected move sit memories we’ve made that can’t be repeated—laughter across the kitchen counter, deep discussions, random drop-ins. These too are good gifts that we can look back on with gratitude and joy, even while, in his sovereignty, God has brought them to their designated end. Goodbyes don’t diminish the goodness of his blessings or their lifelong imprint on our hearts.

So, even in the pain of “farewell,” we can lift our eyes to heaven and say, “Thank you.” Thank you, God, that we’ve gotten to hold these gifts in our hands. Help us now to hand them back over to you in faith, trusting that good things lie ahead as well as behind.

Goodbyes Grow Us

One of the phrases I remember my mom saying again and again, as we sent off one friend or another, was: “God’s people are everywhere.” This simple truth pointed all of our hearts to hope, even as the tears fell. God’s people aren’t limited to one specific place. His purposes aren’t restricted to just one season or opportunity. He never leaves us stranded on the other side of “goodbye.”

Rather, endings make space for new beginnings. It’s cliché, yes, but also true—and deeply comforting. Our lives must constrict in one area before we see them expand in another. 

We say goodbye to the freedoms and opportunities of our pre-motherhood days—passing through the darkness of postpartum and sleeplessness and countless pull-out-our-hair moments—to emerge on the other side head over heels with our children and savoring many magical moments together. We might endure a painful job loss to see God open the door to something even more fruitful or fitting in its place. Or maybe we leave friends and family behind in a cross-country move, discovering, much to our surprise, that God had an amazing community awaiting us in that unfamiliar place. 

The growth isn’t always immediate or evident, but we can take confidence that it is happening, below the surface. “He who began a good work” in us will “bring it to completion” (Philippians 1:6)—through every door sovereignly opened and closed.

As we trust God through difficult endings, let’s keep our eyes peeled for the ways he might be expanding our hearts and minds through them. What “hello” might be on the other side of this “goodbye”? New talents? New friendships? New freedoms? New ministry opportunities? New joys? We can mourn our losses now while at the same time expecting God to meet us with even more grace and goodness and growth in their place.

Goodbyes Aren’t Forever

All those farewells I said in childhood felt very final at the time; there was no easy way to see navy friends again, no reason for them to move back, and no social media at the time to keep us even loosely in touch. And yet, God unexpectedly did weave some of our paths back together, even decades later. One of the kids I babysat long ago later hiked the Grand Canyon with me; others flew across the country to be at my wedding; another dear friend I was able to connect with twenty years later when I found myself in her city. God has surprising ways of continuing relationships and building off opportunities we once thought lost.

For the farewells that do last a lifetime, though, the sure promise of heaven holds us fast. One day we will say Goodbye to Goodbyes.[2] When our Savior returns on the clouds to bring us home, we’ll say a final farewell to endings and separations and losses; we’ll be united with Jesus, and all his people, forever—never missing a moment, running out of time, or breaking our fellowship for a single second. Goodbyes are just a temporary trial that, like death itself, will be eventually swept up, never to be experienced by us again.

Because of the gospel, we can say our goodbyes gratefully and expectantly, trusting the Lord who numbers all our days. For he knows “the end from the beginning and from ancient times things not yet done” (Isaiah 46:10). And he is with us wherever we go.[1] What grace.

“The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face shine on you and be gracious to you; the Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace” (Numbers 6:24-26).

[1] Joshua 1:9; Isaiah 41:10; Matthew 28:20; Romans 8:38-39

[2] Lauren Chandler, Goodbye to Goodbyes (The Good Book Company, 2019).