I am unable to explain to you with eloquent words what it is like or what I am feeling or what this is doing to my mind.
I am unable to figure out how I can feel so stationary and yet be in the process of moving through each day.
I am unable to scream and laugh and cry and enjoy and fall to my knees and run to play with kids without feeling guilty for not doing the opposite action.
I am unable to post all my Christmas photos that show our happy family without aching inside that two of my children are not here.
I have been unable to type the hard words that I wanted to type on this blog because I wanted to live out the song I sing while I clean with my children... "The joy of the Lord is my strength"
I am unable.
He was able.
He was able to know how much we would fail Him and create the world anyway.
He was able to leave His heavenly throne to come to this earth that He made even though He knew the pain that would come because of it.
He was able to show love and compassion and pour Himself out for us and give us adoption as sons.
He was able to be born, live a perfect life, die in a shameful way for my sins, raise Himself from the grave victorious, and go to prepare a place for me.
He was able and He is able.
He is able to show me how He loves me and pursues me and longs for me and cares for me through this time that I know He could take away.
He is able to whisper to my heart.
He is able to be my teacher when I don't want to be taught.
He is able to bind up my wounds.
He is able to lift me up and sustain me when my strength is gone.
He is able to hold the heavens in His hand and still wipe the tears from my eyes.
He... is... able.
The Sunday before Christmas, we woke up, cared for our animals, got dressed nicely, and headed to grab some drinks and go to church early for the children's program. We were in the drive-thru at McDs (Yep. I'm one of those moms.) when we got a message that the boys in Uganda wanted to Skype with us. The kids and I had just video messaged with Isaac and John Terry while we were at the park on Saturday so Matt and I did a Chinese fire drill and switched to me driving so he could talk to them. Almost immediately after the video stream came through, a stream of tears began down the face of one of our sons. He misses his daddy so much and his daddy wants nothing more than to hug him tight and wipe away his tears. It was so very hard.
Minutes after our Skpe call was over, we were taking family photographs minus our two newest sons at a small covered picnic area near our church. I took photos and really enjoyed the smiles of Trinity, Emma, Azriel, and Titus. It was so very fun.
And that's when it hit me. This isn't the same thing that God feels, but it may be the closest I will ever get to getting it.
He came for His children. He stayed a little while. He suffered pain He didn't want to suffer. He had to leave behind those He loved to go and prepare a place for them. He promised He would come back.
Some of the His children are already with Him there. Some of the ones that He loves must wait before they can come home with Him. Some of his children must wait for Him to return. He rejoices. He feels heartbreak. All at the same time.
i'm there. i'm able to get it now. i am allowed to be sorrowful one moment and full of gladness the next. i can want those two boys to be happy and have fun and ride camels and bake cookies and play games, but also want them to long to be home all at the same time. i can hug and give gifts and kiss goodnight those right here with me and enjoy it without worrying that i'm not sad enough about the ones that aren't here yet because You know that i probably will wake up in tears... again. i can say "i love you" and do silly things to make my children smile whether they are right beside me or looking at me through a camera lens. thank You. thank You for wanting me to be happy, but not wanting me to be to comfortable in this world so that i still long for you. thank You for rejoicing over each child of yours that comes home and still want so much for me to be there too. thank You for being willing to listen to my broken words and telling me you love me and doing things just to make me smile.