Self-awareness is a scary thing.

For one, confronting and evaluating yourself can be thoroughly unpleasant. It’s like looking under a rock and finding the nastiest, slimiest slug imaginable, trailing its thread of goo.

It’s possible, though, that self-awareness can be pleasant. You look at where you once were and where you are now, and think, wow, I’ve come a long way. I’m not the person I used to be. That’s a good thing.

In any case, a periodic time to examine yourself is a positive way to be something better than you are. You can see your shortcomings and go to work on them. Or, you can see where you’re thriving and build on that.

Let’s go a step further.

Self-awareness can be a companion to others-awareness. The idea is that you are who you are in large part because of those who have entered (and perhaps exited) your life.

Think about this. Think about those whose lives have intersected yours. I’d suggest those intersections aren’t random.

This was very much on my mind when I got up this morning. I’m old enough to have known hundreds, if not thousands of people. Some I knew and know intimately. Others are the barest of acquaintances. I know many of them because of personal contact. And, interestingly enough, I truly believe I’ve come to know and love some people because of contact through social media. (And before the chorus of haters break into song, I totally understand that cybercontact is a pale imitation of personal “same space” contact. But it does have it’s place. And there are people I’ve never met physically that sure mean a lot to me. I also know that I only know of people online what they choose to reveal, but that’s another discussion.)

Think about this. There are people who are important to you. People who are unimportant to you. They cross your life, love appropriately, or interact carelessly. You have your ordained time with them. And they move on, and you are fine with that.

There are others who enter your life and you think, “Why in the world did I ever have to encounter them?” They devalue your spirit and suck dry your soul. One day they’re gone. You take a deep breath, mutter “thank God,” and move on. You are fine with that, too.

Then there are the unique others. I can think of a half-dozen of them in my own life. These are the folks that leave and you experience a quiet, piercing, agony and wonder why they had to go and leave such a gaping hole. That’s happened to you, right? They are gone. And you look at those currently present in your life and wonder, “O my goodness. What if they were to go, too?”

This is the way of life.

• Children leave parents.
• Friends leave friends.
• Romantic couples part company.
• People move away to a new home.
• People simply grow apart.
• Enemies hate and move on.
• Friends love and move on.

There are those who I was especially fond of that have now drifted into the hazy recesses of my memory. I still think about them.

There are those who are close to me now. I look at them and wonder.

What do you do when you are afraid of having to move on from someone? Or, even more significantly, what if you are the one that has to do the moving?

Ancient script says this, through the words of the Apostle Paul to his young student, mentoree, and friend Timothy. (In addition to all his other gifts and responsibilities, Paul may have been the first youth minister.)

”For I am already being poured out as a drink offering,† and the time for my departure is close. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. There is reserved for me the crown† of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge,† will give me on that day, and not only to me, but to all those who have loved his appearing.” *

Paul knew he was soon to leave this world. He knew that he wanted to leave Timothy with words to comfort him, but at the same time he wanted to be realistic in saying, “Timothy, my dear friend, I am finished. And it is all good.”

But I am enraptured with this imagery, the word pictures Paul paints! “I have fought the good fight.” “I have finished the race.” “I have kept the faith.” Old Paul. He realized he’d completed what he was put here to do. He was at total peace.

So, we have Paul and Timothy, who are, in effect, saying their goodbyes.

There are times when we have to do the same thing. As I’ve already mentioned, I believe that how we say and experience our goodbyes has to do with the context of what is happening.

I’m so stinking socially awkward and so all up in my head it’s a miracle I can even function outside the house. (That’s a joke. Mostly.) I’ll have a conversation with someone and walk away thinking, “What did I just say? Did it make sense? Did I make it too hard for them to understand where I was coming from? Did I say too much? Did I babble? Did I say something inappropriate? Did I say something to make them dread having any more contact with me? Did I say the right thing for them to know my heart and not be uncomfortable or freak out? Did I simply try too hard?”

I strive mightily to not care about those things. So far, I’m an utter failure.

In spite of that, people, I believe in God’s master plan for our lives. It doesn’t really matter all that much how good I was at communicating or relating.

Back to the goodbyes thing: I believe that God moves people in and out of each others’ lives. I think we each leave our mark on others. I believe we are all made up of little moments, little points of contact, little poignant memories of everyone who has ever touched our lives, whether we’re aware of it or not.

I believe you are more because of it. And I think you would be less if those precious lives had not intersected.

I pray God that we accept everyone who comes into our lives with humility and wonder.

I pray we never question. And I pray we never regret.

* 2 Timothy 4:6-8