another goodbye

My friends Katie and Jes are moving from Grand Rapids to Denver this week. I'll be out of town when they disappear into the sunset, so tonight we'll be sitting in our usual booth at our favorite Mexican joint and drinking some beer and saying goodbye.

Today I can't help but think of the night we said hello when I moved to GR last summer. I wrote this on my "Michigan at Dusk: Experiments in Goodbye" blog shortly thereafter:

One of the things I miss most about being in Chicago is the feeling that the city was mine. We'd been living together for more than 10 years after all. You get to know each other's habits, moods. And you develop a shared circle of friends. I never ceased to be amazed at how often I would run into people I knew when I was out and about in Chicago. Sure. You know you're probably gonna see M at The Perfect Cup in the morning. And R at Cafe DeCarte when she has an afternoon off from school. SS outside Le Bouchon taking a smoke break. But for such a big city, I also frequently bumped into people I knew but wasn't expecting to see. MN and RN at The Empty Bottle a few weeks ago. SP, in from Iowa for a show, at Schubas. JR on the Lake Shore walking path. That crazy girl who lived next door at Moody at Target. I miss that sort of serendipity (and the potential for that sort of serendipity).

As I was driving into my neighborhood after work on Tuesday, I said a small prayer. It was something along the lines of, "God, I would just love to run into someone I know in my neighborhood tonight." It didn't have to be anything major. A mutual head nod to someone I'd seen around. A short chat with someone from work who was out for a walk. And even though I haven't been struggling with the question of whether or not this move was right, I added something like, "It would just be a wonderful confirmation that I'm in the right place."

I pretty much forgot this prayer almost as soon as I said/thought it. Despite the invitation to trust him with the desires of our hearts, I think I was embarrassed about suggesting to God such a specific way in which he could be good to me. He from whom all good things come; he who clearly knows about being good to me (cf. friends and family, the stars in West Texas, My Morning Jacket, Soldiers Bathing by F.T. Prince, the dream job, etc.).

A few hours later I was standing at the counter at Kava House when I heard my name in question form from the direction of the door. "Lisa?" I turned around to see two of my favorite people from college--K and JD--flabbergasted. A flood of exclamations and smiles and hugs followed. JD and K live in my neighborhood and were driving down the street when they saw what they thought was me walk into Kava. So they pulled over. Serendipity.

And as we parted ways--after drinking coffee and iced sodas, with plans to get together and numbers exchanged--I remembered that prayer. A yes, and such an extravagant yes! And I reflexively whispered under my breath that call and response from my Bible church days, God is good? All the time. All the time? God is good.

Before the summer was out I'd moved in with Katie and Jes while waiting for the apartment I wanted to become available (an apartment Katie and Jes had connected me with via an acquaintance with the landlord). I didn't count on their friendship when I made the decision to move here, but now, looking back, it's almost impossible to imagine settling in without them.

I won't be able to attend the official going away party for Katie and Jes, but I've been thinking about the stories that the hostess asked friends to bring. I've been thinking about the late nights we spent at the student newspaper office during which Jes would sing and dance to Sons of the Never Wrong and wrestle with James and fix comma splices. And the Halloween party when Katie showed up at my place in goth garb, with Jes trailing behind, an old woman with a walker and powdered wig who was likely to sit on your lap if given even the briefest opportunity.


Katie and Jes pose with James (the giant) and Donovan (Lenny Kravitz)

I've been thinking about all the laughing. But it's a warming realization that my favorite Katie and Jes story might just be the most recent one, the one that started the night at the Kava House last summer.

Here's to new stories.



Katie and Jes at my 30th birthday party last September.