Blessings abound, but the tears still come.
/
Time bomb.
Thats my emotional state.
There are many things that have made me cry lately that normally would not. 'Normally'. Normally as in if I weren't pregnant and had just one month of living overseas tucked loosely under my belt. It's to be expected.
But I can see that it's confusing for the boys. When I randomly turn and stand silent, with only a few sniffles or a clenching stomach to give hint to whats happening. They are all struggling in their own way, so I try to stand strong in front of them.
Judah screamed at me this morning for the umpteenth time this week. I asked him to stop and sent him to quiet down in the solitude of his room. I stood at the bottom of the stairs a moment, but he wasn't calming. I went up. I first knelt by the side of his bed. We talked and cried hard together. He asked if we could 'PLEASE' go back to our 'old house'. I climbed on the bed and we wept together. We rocked back and forth grieving. I spoke to him about hope and trust. About Jesus' gentle hand guiding us here. About new beauty and new seasons. To which he replied, 'but I just want to go back'. I know little man.
I know
We got a little bubble envelope in the mail yesterday from some dear friends in Florida. Judah connected with their oldest girl, who is nine, and I do believe moving here away from her was his first experience of a broken heart. He mourns the loss of her face to face friendship like I'd never imagined a 3 1/2 year old could do. They would play quietly together while all the other children would run around in a pack, like crazy people. Children run like crazy people and act like crazy people. It's to be expected. Judah is a quieter sort. And so was this little beauty he connected so well with. She listened to everything he had to say to her, though he starts his sentences over multiple time before finishing them. She would play with him quietly. These were things he needed, being right in the middle age of all the children that played together. Looking back at it, I can see that he must have often felt left out. The olders were too old and understandably and naturally played things he couldnt keep up with. The youngers were babies. She was a truly beautiful friendship for him in the midst of feeling out of place.
He grieves hard, and talks of her often.
The boy's daddy got home from work last night later than usual, but it went unnoticed when he announced we had a package. They tore into it excitedly and were overjoyed to find three colored pictures for each of our boys from each of their three kids. A family picture accompanied the drawings and then a picture of Judah's, 'best friend'. He held the picture close and smiled a beautifully genuine overjoyed smile. He put her picture on the fridge with a magnet, never letting go of it and remarked, 'She's getting SO pretty!'. He took the picture out from under the magnet and carried it around all evening. A glance was all he needed to remind him to say, 'I just love her so much. And I'm really really sad that I lost her.' My heart broke. I stood stroking his hair as he held her picture close to his face, tears streaming down mine. I've never known a child to connect so deeply with another child. Or perhaps I've never known a child that was able to recognize their connection. His grief often comes out in childish and out of control outbursts, but his little heart is experiencing the first pain of leaving and he just can't understand it. The 'why' of it.
Mine tries to understand, but I fear that too often it's no more grown up than his heart, if only for a moment. I can see God's leading. I can understand to trust. I can see a new season, as bittersweet as it is. But the tears continue to come.