Leaving...

A short reflection on leaving The Netherlands, now 2 and half years ago

I had never seen her cry, and even now she only teetered on the brink of tears. Although she would not let herself dissolve into emotion here and now, I knew that when we had finally gone through the gates, the good byes said, the prayers and blessings pronounced, as soon as she was comfortably home with her husband, the tears would not stop. I felt honoured; this was the closeness of our friendship. Remembering that day still brings tears to my own eyes.

Click the post title to continue reading...She was my wife’s closest confidant. Their professional careers shared many experiences and qualities. Had my Indonesian wife an English double she might have fooled even me. She was my ministry leader and coach. She was the one who, in the wars of leadership and power struggles, believed and trusted in me. In those tumultuous times we became her sounding board, shoulders to lean on, and close friends. We shared meals, movies and wine together, just to unwind and forget the day. We laughed, drank coffee and talked. Still, I had never seen her cry, and she wouldn’t allow herself to do so in the busy airport corridors.

We lived in The Netherlands for almost seven years. The intended two year stay become just one more; then just one more; then an apartment just outside of Amsterdam; a new church; our first child. We met her at the new church, and over the next three years our friendship grew. Together we struggled through internal wrangling and Dutch bureaucracy. We helped her move house. (Twice!) She met her future husband and married him, and the four of us spent hours together solving the world’s problems. They are God-Parents to our son.

I was unsure about staying permanently; caught between what had become an exciting, adventurous home, and mother country Australia, with family and a language and a people I could at least understand properly. I think I wanted to stay, but it was such a departure from our original plans, I couldn’t bring myself to accept it. When my wife first brought up moving back, my heart raced with anxiety. I was still so unsure. I didn’t know what to do. We prayed.

It would mean leaving this small home, leaving our European Adventure of culture, art and history. We would be going back to a place I wasn’t sure I wanted to return to. The few times we went home for a holiday the extended family dynamics were, at times, rather difficult. We would need somewhere to live. I would need to find a new job. We would need to go Church shopping again. But the hardest pill to swallow was leaving our current church family and friends, particularly these two.

Over the next few months we came to the conclusion that God was asking us to return to Australia. It wasn’t forced, or manipulated, but He knew it was the best thing for us, and we wanted to be obedient to Him. We didn’t like it, we didn’t understand it, but that was the way it was. It was very painful. For three months we met with people to say good bye. We started with the easy ones, those important to us, but not emotionally close. Slowly we worked ourselves to the closest friends, the ones whom it would be most painful to leave.

The last two weeks were hell. Constantly in tears, we were emotionally wrecked and the reality of what was about to happen hung over our heads as a rocky outcrop just waiting to collapse under its own weight. We felt blank, empty, like a bucket with a hole in the bottom, and the last of the water finally, slowly, dripping away. The last dinner, the night before we got on the plane, was with these friends. This is the hardest thing I have ever done, I remember thinking. We cried out to God so many times, wondering what on earth was going on. Why was He asking us to go through so much pain?

It took a month to find a place to live; two months to find a church; three months for my wife to find work, and four months for me. All the while we were only just surviving financially, emotionally, and especially spiritually. We were certainly not living abundantly or prosperously. Each day it was all I could do to turn myself over to God, and to trust that He knew what He was doing. Despite the pain of adjustment I was not going to let myself be overcome by confusion. God was going to stay firmly in my sights, even when work did not materialise for me, when old friendships we counted on evaporated, or when it was hard to adjust to a new church.

And you know what? God did know what He was doing. We’ve been in Australia for two and a half years now, and I cannot begin to describe the work He has done in us. Only He could’ve placed us in an internationally experienced home group, with new friends that understand our pain, and don’t gloss over it or try to fix it. Only God could place us in a house that suits our needs as our family grows. Only He understood that learning to stay close to Him meant we needed to be totally out of depth in every possible way. Only in all that pain could we have possibly learnt just how good God is. It isn’t over yet, not by a long shot. In many ways we’re only just getting on top of things. But God knows what he’s doing, and slowly, He’s teaching us to leave, and to return to Him.