The reality of our move is hitting me hard this week. With a plane ride, the life it took almost five years to build, was swept away. My house is gone. My furniture sold. The majority of my belongings are In suitcases and boxes. The friends who've daily watched my children grow, are on the far side. The school year starts without us. Out church will meet to worship, but we will not be there to sing alongside them.
Silas burst into tears as we walked into the international terminal, out of official territory. He was sure we wouldn't have any money now to buy a juice since we only have rupees, not dollars. He was born in a country to which we, most likely, will never return.
I will not pretend that this has been easy. This has been an exhausting season. I am tired. There are joys before us, but "losing your life" no matter where you build it -- is difficult.
For me, in this season, part of the joy is acknowledging how much God gave to us. In a land I never thought I would like--much less miss. The joys of this season passing surprised me. It meant more because they were so beautifully unanticipated.
And now we are in Memphis for a month before we begin again. It feels like such a pure gift -- not "needed" but lavishly given in a way we could never have done for ourselves. Home cooked meals at Grammar's, pool dates with cousins, time to rest and recover, babysitters for date nights, and a trip to the beach with family.
There are seasons when you look at the weeks before you, and before you even begin, you're tempted to lament that it will soon be over. I'm reigning that tendency in this August. I want to look each day in the face and receive it without lament, only with gratitude. This is the gift. This moment right now with my babies jet lagging at their grandmother's house.
Life is too fast and short to be spent always wishing for more.
This is the day that The Lord has made, I will rejoice and be glad in it.