It’s an enormous day in our minds.
Tomorrow will mark the day that Isabella, Emery, and Shepherd have lived in our house for 9 weeks and 1 day. 1 day longer than we were in Colombia.
It’s hard to explain the momentous occasion that this is in our brains. Colombia was like swimming with the sharks. It was painful survival. It was us praying everyday for God to be gracious to us. It was us begging God to help us love our kids. It was us trying to find 5 minutes to hide in our bedroom and cry while we begged Jesus to return.
Now we’re home.
It’s still survival but it’s much less painful. We still beg for God to help us love our kids. We still retreat to our bedroom for 5 minutes to cry. We still beg God to be gracious. Though I’m sure one day we’ll have appreciation for the 9 weeks spent in Colombia, tomorrow puts that painful survival in the rear-view mirror by 1 day.
We haven’t blogged too much (correction: at all) because honestly our hearts, minds, bodies are just tired and raw. I’m not sure you’d want to read what we have to say so instead we post pictures to our facebook page and I’ve included some here. You probably think by now we’re golden award parents. Ha, I guess it depends on which day you ask our kids.
In short, the kids are doing well. Everyone is learning. Everyday is a war of wills, minds, and hearts. So even in the midst of the battles we try to look back and learn and think ahead with hope.
We’re trying to put the difficulties into perspective. In reality, they are slight, momentary, and preparatory. In light of death, they’re slight. In light of eternity, they’re momentary. In light of my sinful, prideful self, they’re preparatory. I need to change and God has promised to do just that for my good and for his glory.
So for now, we’ll quietly celebrate tomorrow. We’ll continue to survive. We’ll continue to battle.