The front porch

The place where we stood to welcome and wave goodbye at Maria's is on the front porch. No matter the time of day or the weather, we ran down the stairs in excitement for new arrivals, new community, teams, or child. We welcomed whoever it was into a space that was safe. It was a place for them to feel welcomed and at home. It was a space filled with peace, love, and new beginnings. We welcomed each being through the doors and into our hearts and hoped to create a sense of belonging and trust.

The front porch also represented a space to say 'goodbye'. We shuffled into a crowded elevator just to be close to one another for a few more seconds before the inevitable separation. We stopped what we were doing; took the preschool class down for a 'field trip' to the lobby, we'd be covered in paint or in the middle of cooking, sawdust on our shoes or sleep in our eyes, and we gathered to say our goodbyes. If you've ever stood on that porch, or driven away from it in a car, you know how sacred that moment is. We stood and waved until the car passed the gate and was out of view. The few still moments just after the gate closed were usually met with more hugs and tears as we said goodbye in our hearts--to the time and memories we had with whoever we were waving to.

We kissed the foreheads of too many babies to count as they bundled up in nannies arms headed into an unknown future. We've held each other and wept as ambulances pulled away with fighting brave souls inside. We've jumped up and down as we blew kisses and waved to visiting teams who became fast friends. We dashed from the porch into cars to spend a precious extra 15 minutes before the airport separated us from loved ones. We stood with silent tears, holding it together for the scared child leaving in their new parent's arms and away from ours. We stood on that porch in desperate prayer, crushing grief, and bittersweet gratefulness. The porch has felt the weight of our sorrow, the leaps for joy from our feet, and the rolling away of tiny wheelchairs. Its been well worn from the gathering of a community that was ever-changing, always evolving. I've stood on that porch in fear and anxiety for the future. Change is a scary thing, and change in that building meant having to be brave, to adapt, and to keep walking forward no matter what.

I can't even imagine the number of times I've said goodbye in my life. I know for a fact, a huge percentage of those happened over the last 3 1/2 years. No one ever prepares you for what it feels like to let someone in again, and again, and again, then having to let them go, again, and again, and again. Being the one who stays is tougher than you'd maybe expect it to be. If you're the one who stays behind, it means someone is always leaving you.

I always felt it an honor to be one of the ones standing on the porch, waving to those who were driving away. I had the privilege to carry a portion of the weight in those moments. To be able to turn around and walk back through the doors. The last time I was on that porch it was different. The roles were revered, and I was the one in the car. I was the one looking back as they waved 'til I disappeared. I didn't know when I'd be back or when I'd see any of them again. We had to leave in such a hurry that I barely knew what was happening. I sat in the car and imagined them slowing down their waving hands and joking about how their arms were tired, and how I probably wasn't looking anymore anyway. I pictured them exchanging hugs and sad smiles, then walking back through the doors to continue what they dropped in order to give me my sendoff. I sat and looked out the rearview window long after the gate was out of view. I wanted to soak in every. last. cloud. on that building. I wanted to watch it as long as I could so that its disappearance wasn't my choice. That I held on until the last moment.

Goodbye's suck. Excuse my lack of eloquence, but I don't really have another word for it. Sometimes, moments in life are really sad, and really hard, and saying goodbye will always be near the very top of that list. 99.9% of the goodbyes on that porch were ones we didn't want to say, and 99.9% of the ones said from the cars weren't wanted either. There's always a moment of, 'what now?' for both parties. That porch represented a passage of time--things were never the same once you passed over it. Whether stepping onto it for the first time and entering the doors, or walking out and down the steps away from it, a person would change and they would be carrying something in them that they didn't have before. Everyone leaves a piece of them behind, and takes a piece of something new. When I first arrived, I walked onto that porch for a visit and I felt a peace like I had 'come home'. 9 years later I walked off of that porch with my whole heart left inside, and life having a new meaning. In those final moments of "one more hug" and heartfelt notes being slipped into bags, there was an acknowledgment of changed hearts and new life. There was a gentle nod to the brokenness and beauty found within the walls. For each child embraced, we whispered prayers and declarations of their worth and bravery. We always sent them with smiles of encouragement and love, and we wouldn't let the tears brimming in our eyes spill over until the gate closed behind them.

“May the road rise up to meet you, may the wind be ever at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face and the rain fall softly on your fields. And until we meet again, may God hold you in the hollow of his hand.” – Irish Blessing

Goodbyes can be a quick "see ya soon!", and they can be significantly more somber. To me, they are sacred space that should never be taken for granted. They are not guaranteed, and for the times myself and friends have missed the chance to be on that porch for a goodbye, they are the most precious words in the world. The goodbyes from that porch were so important, that leaving for any outing or trip brought on an anxiety of fear in missing one. They held an incredible amount of worth and were detrimental to the process of closure and peace. As hard as they were to perform, they were necessary on the road to healing.

I'll never forget the faces I've waved goodbye to--from both the porch and the car. No matter which spot I found myself in, I never forgot to look up. Where I would always find a tiny hand or two waving from the window. 💙

I know I'll be saying a lot more goodbyes in my life, but I'll always hold a special place in my heart for the ones said from the porch of a very big, very blue building.

“This is not a goodbye, my darling, this is a thank you.”

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“How lucky am I to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.” —Winnie the Pooh