Goodbye to a Friend

This week I said a goodbye to a friend.  It wasn't a final goodbye, but a difficult one nonetheless.  Camille was hired on staff at Dar El Awlad in 1984 by my grandfather and spent nearly 28 years serving at the ministry, first as a gardener and then as a cook.  Over the decades he prepared (literally) tons of food, watched many dozens of boys grow into men, and saw volunteers from all over the world come and go.  He was the last staff remnant of my grandparents’ time in Lebanon, and when he walked off site the final time the chapter on an era officially closed.  It’s not just the link to a nostalgic pass that I have said goodbye to; it is a friend.

Most of my days for the past six years have started with a “hello, how are you?” from Camille as I popped into the kitchen to give a morning greeting.  Over the years we shared running jokes about solving the problems of Dar El Awlad first and then sorting out the Middle East next, lessons on agriculture, updates on family, and discussion on the many things that fill this life between birth and death.  We gathered together in his mountain village and shared meals at his home in the city.  There were funerals and weddings, visits during holidays and drop-ins after surgeries.  There were goodbyes and there were welcome backs.  There was a season-through-season friendship.

Making a change now is good and right.  Camille’s kids are all grown, and he still has health and strength to spend time working in the village and tending to his lands.  His home in the city is near and it’ll be easy to him call up or stop by for a visit.  Community circles are small around here; our life has many more intersections to come.  But I’ll miss Camille’s daily presence at the ministry.  I’ll miss his interactions with the boys, his philosophical offerings for any situation, and his genuine concern about family and loved ones.  These coming days I will find myself facing something new.  It’s something small, but still something I haven’t had to experience during my years at Dar El Awlad.  I’m thankful that God brought us Camille nearly three decades ago, and I’m thankful that he has remained a consistent presence ever since.  May God help those of us remaining to likewise tarry on with steadiness and faithfulness, just like my friend Camille.