Change with a Capital C

I told the two congregations that I have served for almost ten years that I was leaving at the end of the month.  For a pastor, that is a little like telling your wife that you've fallen in love with someone else and you're leaving her to start a bright new life with that other person.  I know, that's dramatic, but this is a weird job.
I didn't know what to expect from the folks; anger, sadness, maybe even joy from some (I'm not so arrogant to imagine that everyone will hate to see me go).  What I actually experienced this morning though was nothing that I expected, though, if I really paid attention to God and his people closely, maybe I should have. What I experienced this morning was grace, pure and simple.
When you tell people that you're leaving them, you expect sadness and that is certainly part of it, but what I didn't see coming was the genuine love that people showed Michele and me.  They were happy for us, even as they were sad or anxious about the future of their congregation.  They were happy for us, even as we told them we were moving on, leaving home so to speak.
We were awfully young when we got here, kids really.  The same age as the children, and in many cases grandchildren of the members of the congregation.  I realized this morning, that no matter how much I thought of myself as the pastor of the congregation, I could never really escape the partial identity of a son or grandson.  It's not a bad identity to have, most people like to have a son who is responsible, articulate and goes to church all the time.
I am actually thankful for that role, and for the people who showed me the grace to think of me that way.
As much as the new thing is exciting and challenging, this morning I realized one way I truly hope and pray it is the same: I hope to find the same grace there as I have found here.
I know the people and the place and the very lifestyle will be different, but I trust that the grace will be the same.
Thank you for the grace and peace be with you.