I remember leaving my family 18 months ago. I was standing in the airport and we finally
came to the point where there was no turning back. I could see the dread and aguish in my
parents faces. Finally, what they had
prayed for their whole lives was coming true…only they didn’t realize how much
it would hurt. Goodbyes were spoken and
I took a deep breath, grabbed the hand of my husband and children (along with
an insane amount of luggage) and walked through security. At that moment, my sight lost them and my
eyes fixed on 254 children in Zambia.
From that moment, I haven’t looked back.
Rare have been the days that I found myself longing for anything but the
dirt of Zambia.
2 days ago, my family and I stepped foot onto a plane. “Home for Christmas,” a nostalgic
phrase. The anticipation around me was
just exactly like it should be on Christmas morning. I had 3 little kids knowing what awaited them
on the other side of the trip… and they could barely contain themselves. I had 2 older children who, with every blink
was taking in something new and exciting… and anticipating what things “might
be like” upon arrival. I had a husband who dreams of Starbucks… and when his
next encounter with one might be. Excitement was high. Myself, excited… yet contained. When we finally landed on the ground in
Atlanta, pushed ourselves through the various security measures, and saw my
parents on the other side… kids went running and Shane and I were still bearing
the burden of the luggage. Ha.
For me, excited, yet still contained. But then it happened. We pulled into the house, and I stepped out
of the car. My mom rushed inside to turn
the Christmas lights on. When my feet
hit the rocks, I smelled “Smoky Mountain Air.”
I walked in to the house, and it smelled as it always does at Christmas
time. I looked around and very few
things had changed (with the exception of my stocking position, which is slowly
creeping off the edge of the mantel… and with one or 2 more additions I will
find myself booted right off). I was
HOME. Laughter and giggles filled the
air, despite our 12:30pm arrival time.
And my mom, as always, took me on the tour to show me where to find
exactly what we might need… that her and my grandmother worked so hard to
organize. It took a few minutes. My mom slipped off to bed. I finally corralled my children to bed. I grabbed a book from the book basket. Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. It had a .49$ sticker on it. In the front it read “Brad only” (that’s my
brother). That would explain why there
were 2 copies of the book. J
I read the story to my littles, and noticed in the background that the
fooseball table stopped and I could hear the older boys listening from the
loft. They eventually drifted off to
sleep. I walked through the house and it
hit me. “How have I not missed every
single thing about this place?” “How
have I not grieved missing so much of my family’s life?” “How does my heart not LONG to be here?” It was the Holy Spirit just whispering to me…
“I did that for you. I covered your
heart in peace. I set your eyes on the
things I wanted your heart to follow. It
is only by my GRACE and my STRENGTH that allows you to go.” And the tears fall. I miss home so much. I miss my family so much. But I haven’t shed one.tear. for “wanting to
come home.” That is God’s grace. I’m so grateful for God’s grace and
protection. I’m so thankful that we can
all step foot inside this home again, and rejoice in what the Lord has done for
us. I’ll be home for Christmas…
