Leave Takings

As I mentioned yesterday, traveling has always been the easy part for me to do. But saying goodbye has upon occasion torn my heart out. I still remember a very poignant moment with my nieces. It has burned itself into my memory. The girls were still pretty young. I guess Rachel was seven, Emily, six. It was the end of August, 1988 after their first day back to school. I had come home for a high school reunion earlier, had a short visit, and was heading back to Indonesia the following day.

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I had spent the day with my nieces and two little kids that my sister also babysat, Christina and Jeremiah. The three children and I were seated on the living room floor. I recall we had just finished coloring.

"Emily, you always color so nicely in the lines," I complimented.

"I know."

I smiled. I love how kids acknowledge their talents with that supreme confidence.

"Who taught you how to do that?" I asked.

Emily lay on her belly, with her legs crossed in the air. She was very focused. "My daddy."

"Hey, everyone! how about a book? If we pick up this stuff, you can choose a book for me to read."

"Yay! Hurry up!" the girls cried.

"You pick all the broken crayons, and you pick the books " That was Emily, the little organizer, trying to tidy it as quickly as possible. After a flurry of activity, the kids were ready.

"Aunt Amy, sit here!" Rachel called out.

Emily plopped down on the other side of me. She peered into the book...

Christina stood up, her hands on her hips. "I want Aunt Amy to sit by me, too!"

Emily narrowed her eyes and placed a possessive hand on the book I was holding, "She's our Aunt Amy, not yours."

"Hey, hey, hey! None of that," I chided. "Let's sit in a circle so we can all be together and see the pictures. Besides, I am everybody's Aunt Amy."

We got on with the business of reading. I had a captive audience and really let my storytelling skills go wild. It was a fun, exciting time. I even recall that Jeremiah, an adorable, chubby toddler, wore a big wide grin. He looked from person to person and began to clap his hands as he picked up on the excitement in the room. Maybe my sister had brought him in to share in part of the fun. She always wanted to capitalize on positive experiences. I don't remember what book I read but I remember thinking it was a perfect end to an excellent afternoon.

Soon after, Christina and Jeremiah went home for the day. I stayed on with Rachel and Emily as it was almost dinnertime. We ate dinner and the girls had their baths. Soon it was time for them to go bed.

"Can I tuck them into bed, and say goodnight--and I guess, goodbye?" I asked her.

"Sure," she responded.

I sat down with Rachel and tucked her in. Rachel burst into big, noisy sobs. She just didn't understand why I had to leave. She lay in her bed sobbing and I sat holding her. I didn't have any words this time, no pat hotel plan. I teared up myself. It was all I could do not to cry in front of her. When I left her, she was sleepy and finally calm.

Next, I checked in on Emily, who had been waiting. She lay very, very quietly in her bed and didn't say much. But when I kissed her goodnight, I felt the hot tears that covered her face. She had been crying silently for some time and the hurt seemed to go even deeper.

"Honey, what's wrong?"

She struggled to get the words out, "How come you like them better than us?"

"How come I like who?"

"Those IN-DO-NEE-SIANS!" The words burst out with a torrent of feeling.

"Oh honey, I don't. I don't. I promise you."

"But you keep on going there."

How does a little girl grapple with such emotions? Emily reasoning abilities surprised me.

"I just work there."

"You're not even going to be here for my BIRTHday!" She, too, sobbed.

"Oh, Emily! When is your birthday?"

"I don't know. Ask my mommy!"

I wanted to laugh, but this little girl was so intense that I had to hide it.

We talked for a bit more until she felt better. I promised to write her a lot.

When I finally closed the door, I was an emotional wreck. This goodbye stuff had really taken its toll on me.

I told my sister about what happened, and she sighed, "They're overemotional. Remember it was the first day of school for them. You've been with them ever since. Emily rarely shows her emotions. And both of them really miss you when you're gone."

"I guess..."

I was still pretty shaken by the unexpected way they'd pulled on my heartstrings. In fact, so much so that I canceled a date with an old friend I had planned to meet up with. I just wanted to go to bed and wake up early to catch my flight out. I felt drained.

I found that I couldn't enjoy my flight back as I normally did. All I could think of was the little girls I had left behind. Of course, they woke up and went to school. Life was back to normal for them already. And it would be for me when I settled back into my job. I loved it all over again.

But I will never forget my encounter with their tears. Children have such an innocent way of showering us with honest emotion, in a way that adults rarely do. We keep it inside. Like my mom did for so many years each time I left. I think it got harder for my mother to hide it, though. A few years back I watched my mother walk away from me from inside the window at Erie International Airport. She slowly hobbled back to her car, leaning heavily on her cane. The sight of her stooped over made her appear so lonely that I was at once reminded of that long ago farewell scene with my nieces. I decided then that I would have to come home soon to live. Farewells has begun to hurt too much.

Amy's Hotel List

I ran across some items recently that I had stored away for many years. It reminded me of how important my relationship with my nieces has always been in my life.

As a rule, I wan't overly sentimental about leaving my family and returning to wherever I was living overseas at any given time. My mind was already on the airplane, thinking of the stops I had to make, and when I could relax and get back to "my real life."

But I have to admit that it was always somewhat difficult to leave my nieces behind. They had me at my heartstrings sometimes.

The first memento I found was "Amy's Hotel List."

"Aunt Amy, why d' ya haf' to keep going away all the time? I miss you." This, from honey-haired Rachel. She was seated cross-legged on my bed watching me finish pack. She fidgeted with some little purse I'd given her from Guatemala.

"Ya, Aunt Amy. You're s'possed t' live here! We like it when you read books to us 'n' stuff," Emily chimed in. She frowned at me, accusingly.

I sighed. "You know, guys, what about if you come over to the house ... maybe on Friday or Saturday night to visit Grandma and Grandpa, and then sleep in my room? There are two beds here, one for each of you!"

Rachel's eyes lit up. "Can we really?"

"Sure, and ... uh, it'll be just like a hotel...whenever I go to a hotel, I have to write my name and all kinds of information!" I added, ad-libbing as I went along. "It'll be like you are traveling too."

"Ya, that'll be fun!" Rachel shouted.

"No, it won't. Aunt Amy won't be here! She'll be ... I can't 'member where you're goin'..." Emily looked as if she might burst into tears.

"It will be lotsa fun. You'll have to sign in and write the date you stayed, and say what you thought of your stay. I do that when I travel. We can sit down and talk about it when I come home again. That'll help you remember. And to pay for staying over night, you'll have to help grandma with the dishes or make the beds. Or maybe grandpa, you can help him do some fun jobs!" I said encouragingly.

"Like plant some stuff, or pick strawberries!" added Rachel, already imagining the fun she'd have. "Maybe he'll give us a ride in his old truck!"

"That's not work!" Emily scoffed, "but I guess so...okay, it's a deal. But what if I want to stay and Rachel doesn't? Or what if our dad doesn't let her 'cause she does something bad?" Emily always thought everything out. She was a very practical young girl.

"I wanna stay, too. I'm allowed, can't I, Aunt Amy?"

"Yep, you can both stay but ya gotta sign the list. An' ya gotta be good and help grandma."

They agreed and we made the list right then and there. We taped it to my desk blotter and got it ready for their first visit.

"Hmm. Remember just write your first name."

"C'mon girls," their mother called upstairs to us, "Daddy's ready to go now."

"Bye, Aunt Amy" they chorused, and hugged me tightly. Then they ran to tell their mom about the hotel list and our agreement.

Now as I look at the list, a lump forms in my throat. I put it back next to the construction paper ice cream cones they made for me one time when I left. It has their good-byes written in childish print. I place that on the chalkboard with a set of school photos, glued to it and the message "To Aunt Amy: World's Best Aunt" written in glitter-glue.

I find that I'm getting emotional; the tears are coming as I write.

I guess when you cultivate a relationship, it becomes such a big part of you that even the moments of separation become mementos of your life.

Though I was gone so frequently, I nurtured our relationship through letters with word pictures and stick-figures of the people I met. I punctuated my letters with funny stories and sent cassettes for them to listen to for nights when they stayed "in the hotel." I bought them typical dolls from everywhere I traveled. They consisted of straw, felt, clay, rope, cloth, cones ... you get the picture. The most basic elements. I sent them traditional clothing of some of the countries I lived in and explained what the styles and colors meant. I taught them to look into their hearts and reach out to those who have different lifestyles and languages. So, while leaving them was always difficult, I shared as much of my foreign life with them as I could back then.

When I was pregnant, I dreamed of having daughters just like Rachel and Emily. When God took my twins to heaven, He lovingly reminded me of the connection that I still had with these two precious nieces who had grown up in my shadow - and that comforted me. Now when I spend time, and observe them nurture their own families, my heart overflows with gratitude and love for the women they've become.

They have both done some overseas mission work, and I like to think I opened their hearts just a little bit to doing that through my own love for missions and life abroad.

Thank you, Heavenly Father, for teaching me how to nurture this relationship throughout all the separations, and reunions. Thank you for loving me enough to allow my life to be enriched by them. Thank you for allowing them to step in and fill the place my twin daughters would have taken up in my life had they lived. I'm so grateful, Father, for your etermal provisions.