Hail and Farewell

This is my first blog post. 

Today is my last official day working for the Mississippi Center for Justice, and the first time really tallying up that I've been affiliated with them for almost 5 years now.  Upon entering my second year of law school at Ole Miss, MCJ was a welcome escape, my week-long window back into the communities that most inspire me. Communities with stories of resistance, reconciliation, and possibility.  I didn't know then that my time volunteering through the Student Hurricane Network would completely alter the course of my burgeoning career.  That I'd meet my husband through our shared passion for service and New Orleans.  That I'd become this regional persona--the Mississippi half of a MS/LA partnership.   

In true Biloxi style, my office organized a small lunch party in my honor, catered by my former clients, a family owned business named La Bamba Latino Store (great authentic Mexican comfort food).  There were also two cakes, one a delicious surprise from my clients that read simply "Thank you Annette" and a smaller one "Best Wishes Annette."  We talked about my upcoming travels in the very general and broad approach that I've adopted since we've first started sharing our plans.  Usually my response is "I can't give you the specifics, Ham has been handling that," versus a more honest answer.  That I've been pulled in too many directions lately to focus on this most intimate piece of work. Or that I am intentionally embracing the unknown and resisting the details. 

I am  present to how departures of this sort bring up childhood memories for me.  As an Army Brat I am well versed in the language and emotions of goodbyes, but they have never been easy for me.  I am a charismatic lover of people and place, and departures have typically involved some force outside of my control...a bombing in Riyadh, a promotion, my parents desire to move closer to "home" etc.  Now I find myself as cause in the matter, the reason for this latest journey is simply because "we say." 

It has been difficult to detach myself from the work and the communities that has greatly accelerated my personal and professional growth and development.  How does one say goodbye when all of the victories have not yet been celebrated, and there is always more work to do?  How do you leave when you feel that you haven't done enough, could have worked smarter/longer/harder/better (insert any adjective here)?  My current answer is that you declare it complete, you accept the love and acknowledgement, and trust that the greater purpose for our shared time together is still unfolding. 

I drove home and picked up my husband, dropped off the best wishes cake, and brought the thank you one to a session with a small Episcopal service corps group that Ham and I had agreed to meet with weeks ago (but only remembered this morning).  We were to talk to them about our work and personal stories through an analysis of race and class.  What occurred was a really delightful conversation with thoughtful year long volunteers dancing the YERP (young educated rebuilding professional) dance, of locals vs. outsiders, brown vs. white, privileged vs. poor.  Each of them at various stages in the development of their relationship with their Creator, and the shared experience that through community and learning the stories of others, they strengthened their own spiritual calling.  There were many moments throughout our 2 hour conversation where I was reminded that I am them and they are me. 

This is the experience that I am searching for on our trip, that oneness across all of the languages, lines, and check points that occur as boundaries.  I am a clearing for people to share their stories and feel connected.  And I am increasingly excited when I experience the spaces that Hamilton and I are able to create together!

Hamilton closed the night out by very sweetly asking that we all say a prayer for his impending surgery (he's having his sinuses drained in the morning).  The group happily obliged, creating a friendly game of who could find the appropriate passage in the Common Prayers Book.  We left feeling protected and covered.