Leaving Places

Photo by Jared Wood on Unsplash

Leaving places is hard. I’m not talking about moving to a new town or retiring from a job but leaving those things which exist on the periphery of our lives and  yet remain essential parts of how we navigate the world. Stepping back from organizations or ending relationships with businesses we’ve patronized for years is disconcerting and sad.

Recently, we had a difficult and upsetting experience with the veterinary practice which has cared for our various animals for decades. I remember going there as a child with the pets I grew up with. The founder of the practice became a close friend of my father’s and was the last person outside the family to see him alive. His daughter was one of the most dedicated care providers I’ve ever met, literally there 24/7 for her clients, until she reluctantly retired. I did not have a good feeling during my interactions with the new provider, but I soldiered on simply because that’s always been our vet. But a mistake made by one of their staff members negatively impacted the health of one of our dogs for months and will require careful monitoring of medication to correct. In other circumstances, it could have been fatal. And without going into detail, the incident was shrugged off by the person in charge.

It's hard letting go and saying goodbye, especially when something in which you had complete confidence lets you down. When I discovered the error in my dog’s medication, I spent that weekend alternating between tears and profanity-laced fury. I had a similar experience several years ago, which resulted in a slow and painful exit from a church I never dreamed I’d leave. I now find myself in a different faith community and even though I miss the people and will always cherish the time spent at my previous church, I know this is where I need to be.

I never do these things quickly or in a spontaneous fit of anger. I give new people and different approaches a chance, and maybe that makes the process all the more difficult. Sometimes I tell that little voice in my head to shut up about a situation not feeling quite right, because I don’t want to rock the boat or hurt someone’s feelings. But you reach a point where you have to acknowledge that what worked before no longer works, and the band-aid has to come off.

And you figure it out. You find a new vet, or a new church—whatever it is—you fix it even though it may be gut-wrenching in the short term. But moving on and making a change does not take away the goodness of the previous place. You carry that with you. I will be forever grateful for the kindness and skill of our previous vet and her staff. My old church came into my life at a time when I desperately needed it, and I have wonderful memories of the thirty plus years I worshipped there. It’s hard when something happens to force the change, but sometimes that’s what it takes to help us find our way forward and grow.