Somehow I managed to survive the last few hectic days before departure as I did my best to downsize all my belongings that I wasn't taking and pack up my room so everything I left behind would be portable. I didn't quite get all the things done on my to-do list as I would have liked and instead figured out quite quickly what things could be deleted without creating a hardship. Making a return at Walmart was something I could skip, but having a ravioli dinner with a friend I wouldn't see in person for months wasn't something I would trade for a world of crossed-off checklists.
The night before my departure I said my last goodbyes to friends on campus and then returned home to burn the midnight oil tying up as many loose ends as possible. I finished boxing up my room and taking out the trash and then I stopped and surveyed the empty looking room, letting out a big sigh. I glanced at my watch and saw the time: 12:30 a.m. That's when it hit me. There's a saying that tomorrow never comes. Well, this time it did. August 21 had arrived.
Two of my dearest people got up with me at the unearthly hour of 3:30 to take me to SMF airport. It was a miserable thing saying that goodbye. If only I didn't have to leave those I cared about most behind. Perhaps it's just the smallest taste of a goodbye that was infinitely more difficult, when God "gave His only begotten Son" to this dark world. I suppose if Jesus was willing enough to leave His Father's personal presence for 33 long years for my sake, shouldn't I feel it a privilege to do something so comparatively small as leave home for His sake?
The sun was just rising as my Southwest Airlines jet passed over the crest of the Sierras. I waved farewell to California and then let sleep close my exhausted, moist eyes.
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