As I sit on my porch on this warm summer evening, I’m keenly aware of all my senses. The warm gentle breeze on my skin, the busy sounds of the cars passing by, and the smell of a fresh, much needed rain on the hot pavement. My thoughts have been fragile lately, if that makes sense…As I put my oldest daughter to bed tonight after she’d been lashing out a bit, I sat down with her as she admitted that she really just missed her foster brother, and tears welled up in her eyes as she began to cry. He’d been reunified about two months ago now, but just recently came to stay with us for a couple day visit, and it was a sweet time for all of us. And when he left today, it just “hit different” as they say. Maybe for all of us. As I saw grief wash over her it came over me too, as I tried my best to comfort her.
Then I came outside to sit in it a bit. My mind began to go to other situations I haven’t fully grieved…We found out recently the property we’d been believing for, for the ministry, had sold just a few short weeks ago. And when I’d initially heard the news, I was so strong, faithfully assuring others, but mainly myself, that there was purpose behind it all. Don’t get me wrong, there definitely is more to the story with that particular property, but, I’m feeling it tonight.
I am also brought back to my childhood home, not too far from where we live now, and I was trying to remember the times I sat on the porch during the rain, and I couldn’t remember if the porch was screened in or not. Seems silly I know, but I can’t drive over and remind myself anymore, because the house isn’t there. It was sold when I went away to college, and I never saw it again. Whoever bought it, didn’t take care of it, and a few short years later it was condemned and knocked down. That’s where I spent 18 years of my life. It’s just a home, I know, but the memories are fading and I feel sad that I can’t show my kids my home, that there isn’t anything there but a small plot of land at the end of an alley.
The past two weeks or so my family and I were able to spend a lot of time in the country, near our old neighborhood. For those of you who have read our blog and followed our story, we had a nice place with some land on a pretty secluded lot a few years back. A stark contrast from where we are now. I knew the Lord was calling us out to do something new, and we were faithful. But as we were back in that rural area, with the weather so warm and summertime in the air, I felt the grief of that loss, and feel it tonight, as I ask the Lord why we are here. What to do next…sometimes even…did we do the right thing?
My husband, Adam always assures and encourages me in my moments of weakness, that we are exactly where we are supposed to be. And I agree, but I’m also learning it’s okay to feel, and to grieve the loss we’ve experienced. One of the things that I was saddened by this weekend was the lack (or what I thought the lack was) of the fireflies here in the city. Chasing and catching them was always such a special memory for me as a child but also watching my kiddos do the same. But as I sat here tonight, taking everything in, I saw a tiny little light across the street, and as I looked around I began to see more and more, even in my own yard. And I smiled, because so often we tell our children God cares so much, even about the little things, and here I am sitting in my grief, and He sends fireflies to remind me of His love and faithfulness. Thank you Jesus, for your comfort in the coolest of ways.
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