It’s a hard but sad fact that people- at least most people- move in and out of our lives in a relatively short time. Some individuals are luckier than others in that they have better luck- and better skills- at establishing and fostering relationships so that those they have with others don’t fade so quickly. And other individuals are less fortunate than others for the same reason: they find themselves in relationships with others that are less beneficial than they should be, and those relationships don’t disappear. Still, we all make friends with people that we end up caring about, and for reasons that are more or less clear (they moved, we moved, they had kids, they got married, we started playing with fire, the winter was exceptionally cold, etc.) those relationships wither. Lives move on. Our affections stop at the entry way to our memory. And we and they, in the din of living, just go different ways.

Still, it’s what we have shared together, and what we have shared with one another, that gives our lives dimension and depth.

I was thinking tonight about my church, and about all of the people who have come and gone within it, and it has been kind of sad. In an odd twist of reason (and insanity), there is a part of me that wants to blame myself for the exodus, for all of the early exits of friends and acquaintances that have happened at our little campus. And of course, this is ludicrous. I think this way because of the neurotic narcissist I am at times, predicating the events of the world on who I am and what I do within it. It may moreso be because I am an inverted narcissist at times: if anything goes wrong in some corner of life that may somehow magically touch my world, I must have had a hand in on the derailing. Too often I think that, somewhat like Jonah was the reason his ship listed in a storm, it must be because I touched something related to some event that that event went awry, that people were offended or hurt or put off. I know. I am irrational. I am at times. And I blame myself unreasonably when there is a loss of love in my life and my world. I know- children do that.

The truth is, people come and go. The memories that you make with them while they are around are either trophies that you hoist with joy in your heart, or they become trunks of disappointment and despondency that crush your spirit as you let them up and out.

Love is a gate that swings in two directions, letting others come in and stay as easily as they can get up and leave. That’s how it’s supposed to be.

And in reality, that’s how it is.

That’s just how life is.