I stand outside humming Cameroonian airport. There is a sort of frenzied chaos in the air. Around me, people are bustling with excitement and anticipation.
But I don’t feel excited. An ache surges through me as I know what is coming. Reluctantly, I help two of my sisters load their carry-ons and suitcases onto a cart.
I wish those were my bags. I think. I wish I was going with them.
My dad doffs his ball cap and leads our family in prayer for my sisters’ journey.
Then, the hurried goodbyes begin. I hug my two sisters. It is a goodbye hug. It is tight. It lingers longer than it should. Then, I let go. I let them go.
My eyes follow the girls as they stride up the concrete entrance towards the airport. They pass through the sliding doors… Gone. Their path is diverging away from my own-- again. I fight tears and hold onto my mother’s hand. There is a deep ache within. Goodbye--again. Would our family always be splintered across oceans and continents? Would the times of “togetherness” always be so few and far between? Why does their path have to veer away? The sound of a girl’s voice breaks through my train of thought. I glance over to see a young Cameroonian girl standing nearby.
“ je veux aller avec eux jusqu’à !” she says.
I want to go with them so bad!
I watch her watching her friends as they too disappear behind the sliding doors.
One day that will be me. I think.
It may be many months, but I will get on a plane eventually, and familiar faces will greet me on the other side of the journey. I will hug my sisters again and it will be a hello hug. Not a goodbye one.
I study the girl. The sad realization hits me that she will probably never leave the country.
My turn will come. I think. Our paths will merge again.
The trip back to the mission hostel is lonely. Funny how on the same road, one can feel so many emotions—the elation of picking up my sisters mere weeks ago, now turned into the emptiness of letting them go again.
We arrive at the hostel, and I find a private place. The tears begin to flow. I cannot remember the last time I cried so.
I open my journal and write one word on the top of a page.
The heading.
One of the few constants in my ever-fluctuating life...
“Goodbye.”
***
That journal entry is really what inspired this blog. While I wrote, God reminded me of so much truth. I wanted to find a way to share those truths those seven or eight years ago. I still do.
The journey of the TCK is often lonely. “This road we travel” has many wandering paths. Often, as we journey, we leave others behind. Sometimes, we must let our loved ones take the diverging path. And that is our plight—to journey without.
Truly, I struggle to know how to sum it all up. Where is the hope in the long wait? Where is the solace for the longing ache? Where is the companionship on the lonely journey?
It is with the Path-Maker. As TCKs, we are rarely the determiner of our own directions. But God is. He had it all laid out before the beginning of time. He knew about every hello and every goodbye we’d ever say. He journeys alongside us. Never leaving us. Never forsaking us. The Path-Maker tends to the needs of His sojourners. He knows our plight--more than we could ever imagine!
So, turn to him when the “hello hugs” abound and the journey is beautiful. Turn to Him when your hands are empty, and the path is lonely. Turn to Him, as you’re sitting on the plane—about to reunite at last! Turn to Him as you agonizingly wait for that time to come.
He will give you rest, endurance, and hope as you journey.
***
There is SO much more to be said about this topic. This is an introductory post of sorts. Hopefully, I will write more about it later (so please stay tuned!)