When God Calls You to Say Goodbye
The first time I ever said goodbye, and I mean a significant goodbye, was when I completed middle school to start high school. My family and I had decided that I would live with my eldest sister for high school, which was over an hour away, instead of continuing at home.
It was a difficult decision but the thrill of something new and exciting appealed to me. I was leaving my parents’ house for the first time.
When it came time to leave the family met at the church. Momma, Daddy, my sister, Oreale and I. And then Debbie, Lyle and their elementary-aged daughter, Brittany.
They had moved to Virginia a while back to pastor their own church. So not only would I be at another home, but I’d also be leaving my one and only church home. As we pulled off from the church, to my surprise, the excitement drifted and sadness settled in. I wouldn’t be with Momma anymore. It was then that I got the first taste of separation from the love, safety and familiarity of home. I had to say goodbye.
Life went on. I lived with my sister for four years of high school and then went on to college after I graduated. Howard University.
Howard was every luscious shade of brown you can imagine. In the shadows of after-school visits and idle minds, I picked up certain behaviors that connected me to certain people.
I was soon unraveled in an addiction-driven, excessive lifestyle. Though I grew up hearing the Biblical testaments about the woman at the well and the man living in the tombs, I became the woman at the well. I became the one living in the tombs.
Living in dry places. Seeking bits of pleasure to soothe the full-on battle happening in my soul. As long as I was high, I was happy. So I smoked from 7am to 11pm, everything from black and milds, to blunts filled with green buds of marijuana. I barely ate. My friends were whoever was smoking at the time. And I literally had no life.
In August 2006, I became ill. I couldn’t keep any food down. I couldn’t even drink Pedialyte. I went to the Emergency Room and no one could tell me what was wrong with me. The doctors sent me home.
Day and night, I vomited and heaved until nothing came up. My stomach was sore and my throat hurt. I slept throughout the entire day as my body purged itself.
One afternoon, my mother came in with a list of scriptures. “Read these”, she said. I read them over and over again.
Psalm 103:2–5 Bless the LORD, O my soul, And forget not all His benefits: Who forgives all your iniquities, Who heals all your diseases,
Jeremiah 30:17 For I will restore health to you And heal you of your wounds,’ says the LORD, ‘
Malachi 4:2 But to you who fear My name The Sun of Righteousness shall arise With healing in His wings; And you shall go out And grow fat like stall-fed calves.
Isaiah 53:4–5 Surely He has borne our griefs And carried our sorrows; Yet we esteemed Him stricken, Smitten by God, and afflicted. But He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities; The chastisement for our peace was upon Him, And by His stripes we are healed.
At the end of the day, Momma came in my room and laid hands on me and prayed for me “in the name of Jesus!”
From then on, by the prayer of love, I was healed. After that day, I couldn’t smoke. If I tried, I felt sick.
It was then that I made a commitment to live for Jesus. I was tired of the pain of seeking breadcrumbs, when God had a feast ready for me.
I invited God into my life. I separated myself completely from my previous lifestyle, to the extent that I didn’t even see people that I used to see every day.
This was the second time God called me to say goodbye.
It was a period of seven years before I felt God calling me out once again. I had since received the Holy Spirit. I had just had my third son. I had been working for my eldest sister for seven years. I had a beautiful, safe life, yet my needs were only being met partially. I was still highly dependent on my parents and eldest sister to make ends meet. I worked 40 to 50 hours a week, but 75 percent of my paycheck went towards the cost of working, which was basically childcare and gas money. In my time off on maternity leave, I got into the habit of listening to podcasts and reading more books. After reading the Four Hour Workweek by Tim Ferriss, I started to get creative and realized I would be happier freelancing and keeping my children at home.
I realized I needed to take the bold step to change and design the life I wanted. So I pulled my children out of daycare, and quit my job of seven years.
I still remember how I felt walking down that hall to my big sister’s big office, to tell her I was leaving. There was a knot in my stomach. I was so afraid. Afraid of rejection. Afraid of failing.
But I persevered. Beyond the fear. Beyond the doubt. I went into her office, and thanked her for her support and love over the years. Then I said goodbye.
When I did, I felt a burden lift. I had done what I needed to do to make my family work. To improve my life. And when I did, I discovered more about myself as a mother, as a wife, as a writer and as an entrepreneur.
Before then, I didn’t realize how business-minded I was until I started managing multiple writers and handling large projects. I didn’t see my own talent until I noticed that clients were willing to pay more and more as I worked my way up the pay ladder. I developed a confidence in myself that I never had.
Later that year, I accepted a job as a brand journalist. I desired stability financially and to be in a collaborative environment. I’d also planned to request a work-from-home schedule, which ended up working out beautifully.
My boss in this role was spiritually wise. He was not religious in anyway, but he was a voracious reader. He’d been through a few difficult experiences and had found his peace through meditation. It was then that I learned to be still. To quiet the noise in my mind and listen for God.
As I advanced through the company, I realized that I intrinsically [NJ4] harbored a lot of anxiety. So I created painful situations out of my own worry and self-doubt. I tried getting manicures and pedicures, shopping and other ways to find inner peace, but still struggled with a lot of stress and anxiety.
In those months, I began to seek God for myself. Through quiet time, prayer, reading my Bible, laying on the floor asking God why[NJ5] , I found His voice again.
One day, I was cleaning the house and thinking about the dreams and visions God had given me over the last few years, and something clicked. In a moment, God revealed to me exactly why I was placed on this earth. He gave me my mission. I sat down urgently and wrote down every detail.
From that point forward, I could not rest. I had no passion for my job anymore. I knew my time there had expired. At this point, the first time I quit my job seemed worlds away. But the feeling was the same that day.
I had a knot in my stomach. I practiced the conversation over and over in my mind. I knew my mission and I knew what I wanted out of life. I couldn’t continue digging my roots into soil where God hadn’t called me to grow[NJ6] .
With tears in my eyes and the vision for my upcoming book, with every ounce of courage I had, I left the beautiful work I’d created for the past two years. I said goodbye, again.
I did it. I said yes to purpose. For months, I wrote daily, pouring out my soul and my story onto the white space of my laptop screen. I prayed for God’s download each day and I received, at Starbucks, at home in my office, in the backyard sun.
That summer, I felt a shift. I had been praying about a spiritual detox and was led to a 21-day Mind-Body-Soul Detox. This was one of the most critical times in my life. I laid aside foods I loved, even coffee, and sought God. I felt clean. I felt clear and receptive to the voice of the Holy Spirit like never before.
God showed up in my life in a new way. A very personal, deeply intimate way, telling me things I never knew about myself, about Him. He stirred up a thirst in me.
From that summer on and for the past year or so, I kept a daily practice of spending time each morning in silence and solitude, welcoming the presence of God into my heart and my home. It has been in these days, that I’ve sharpened my ability to hear God’s voice in my life.
With each goodbye, routines have turned to memories. Familiar faces have waxed distant. However, a new facet of who I am is revealed. The call from a destructive lifestyle to one of holiness, revealed my identity as a Christian. When I transitioned from my full-time job to freelancing, I discovered who I was as an entrepreneur. When I left my job as a brand journalist, I discovered my identity as a writer and passion as an advocate. These are all facets of myself that I now understand as core components of my soul’s identity.
Over the past year, I have felt God calling me to yet another goodbye. It has felt much like the other goodbyes. A knot in my stomach. Fear. And doubt. The fear of causing pain to the beloved I call family. The sadness of lost familiarity and covenant.
Yet there is a thrill of discovering a new aspect of God, a new facet of self that is critical to my mission and identity in life.
But to those who I’ve been privileged to share space and time and joy:
With every goodbye, every dance choreographed, every word spoken, every tear cried, prayer prayed and work completed, let it be remembered in the fullness of God’s love I shared with you, dear hearts.
Even with the complexities of life, our wounds will heal. We will grow to become who we already are and we will heal this world together.
