Hand dances and heart strings
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It remains true that I'm a sorry blogger. I don't keep up. I have thoughts throughout each day that could be posted. Updates, heart tugs, convictions, insight - but I just don't do it.
Life on the island continues to move on. And with it my heart continues to desperately miss Florida and the community of believers we were in fellowship with there. Even after over 2 months gone it's still hard for me to believe that we won't be going back. That this isn't a long vacation. That our life as we knew it there is done.
That being said, God is sovereign and he provides. We've met some truly beautiful people here and are developing a new community of believers, short lived as it may come to be. The Lajes Field "draw down" is supposedly still happening starting next June, which is when the majority of my new friends will be leaving. I've found it more difficult to really dive in and let myself truly love when I know that we have well under a year with these people. We've fired up a home group with folks around our age with youngins in the house. It's been wonderful to host meals again. To sit and eat. And laugh. And pray.
It's a good thing to move forward and embrace the season in which God has placed us, but always on Home Group night there is a tugging in my heart that longs to be back with our home group in Florida. Those well established 3 year old completely open and vulnerable friendships we had. It takes time to get to that stage of relationship and I'm feeling like there's just not sufficient time here for that. There's talk that we'll be shipped out sometime mid summer next year, by the latest October of next year.
It's hard for life to move on.
At times.
There have been so many moments throughout my life that I've wished that I could halt the spin of the earth. That I could choose when for time to stop and when for it to continue. The beauty about being completely out of control of our lives is that the blessings continue to flow - unendingly - they flow in because he promises us that they will.
Seeing them.
Finding them in everything.
That is the hard part, at times.
I laid on Judah's bed with him tonight, as he requests I do each night - I held his precious little hand as he went on and on in his sweet voice about the events of the day - he'd stop mid sentence to tell me how and what to do with my hands. He loves hands and is always giving me instructions on what to do with my hands as we lay and talk each night. Tonight I was to hold one hand out and grab it's thumb with all five of my other fingers. Then proceed down the line of fingers until all fingers were wrapped by all my other five fingers. Over and over again he said, "just do this." Again and again.
I found his CD player that we had in his room in FL. It sang out the Hymnal praises that are so familiar to my ears from nights spent on his tiny toddler bed. I cried hard in the dark as I listened to the music and followed his hand dance instructions. He leaned over and breathed on my face as he said exactly what my heart was throbbing, "I always liked these song in Florida." I cried harder. Sweet precious boy. So many memories in my heart from nights of just 5 or 10 minutes with him before he drifts to sleep. The music sang out as he asked me questions about why the baby moves in my belly. "Why does he do this?...." and then a demonstration of what he figured was happening in there. I put my hand on top of his and he pulled his out and moved mine. He reassured me, "you don't have to hold it there mommy. I'm not moving it."
I'm eager to see his love for his baby brother when they finally get to meet face to face.
These moments. I want to stop the spin. Stop the forward force. These moments I want to relive over again. Every detail. Every sound. Every smell. I closed my eyes and I could smell his room in FL. I could see how tiny he was when we started this night time ritual. How he was just forming little sentences and using all sorts of intricate hand gestures as he sang songs along with me. I could hear the sound of the door shut as I would walk out. I could see the hallway and the living room in our house there. I could smell those smells, and hear those sounds and see those sights.
My heart knotted and more tears swelled. And it came again - that disbelief that we won't be going back. That we won't step off a plane and say to people, "It's SO good to be back!" I want so badly for that!
But if I stopped time
If the forward force ceased There would be no face to face with a baby brother. There would be no beauty in tomorrow. There would be no growth, no strength in trust. Being in control would be a sad thing, indeed.
Holding precious close to my heart without mourning their passing - that is my growing process.