Waking

“I will lie down and sleep in peace, for you alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety.” Psalm 4:8

…leaving
Friends brought (and cleaned up) a smorgasbord breakfast. Mattresses (the only furniture left in our house) given to our pastor’s wife and tied onto the cars. The house swept out for the last time. Garbage placed by the garage awaiting removal by another friend. The keys left on the table for the real estate agent. Tears streamed as we hugged dear friends. And a prayer of blessing by our pastor sends us with love as we stepped into the car for our last drive through the peaceful and lovely Estonian countryside.

…sobbing
The three hours we planned for checking in was just enough for checking in 18 pieces of very overweight luggage without worry about time constraints. Time enough remained to spend with our very special friend, Heili, as she sent us off with yet more hugs at the airport. The reality and finality of our decision set in as the tears turned to heart-wrenching sobs as we watched the familiar Estonian coastline disappear from the airplane windows. My sadness is stabbing through my heart, but it doesn’t match that of our children. I’ve said good-bye too many times already, unlike our children, who must do it for the first time that they remember. Our Lissy has never once left Estonia without tears, not even for a vacation, and once again I realize how God has given her an incredible love for this land and this people.

…transitioning
Islands we’ve visited many times gradually fade away, and my heart is finally able to turn to that which awaits us in a new country, a new home. How can I do this one more time? How can I allow myself to serve and love and open my heart to the possibility that comes with it for this kind of pain again?

…awakening
Several hours later we step onto the flight which will take us to a new homeland. As we stand in line, each of our children in turn whispers to me (or says out loud in our now quite secret language of Estonian) about the sea of dark faces. We’ve never been so obviously different before. And already as we fly God our hearts begin to awaken to what he has for us. Sarah sits next to an adorable baby and his mother on the plane. She and I get to hold him and care for him so she can stretch her legs. As we wait over two hours for luggage (aka all our earthly possessions/everything that is dear to us) that never arrives, Grace waves, smiles, and blows kisses to her new “Cameroonian friends” who watch and wave back, grinning from the gallery above. Lissy begins her collection of animal stories in Africa by observing the decimation of a mouse under the janitor’s foot. And Nathan waits on the empty carousel sharing one earphone of his MP3 player with the lady who came to meet us at the airport.

…waking
God grants us a peaceful rest. As I awake and walk in the garden of the guest house, childhood memories of Indonesia flood my mind – so many similarities. The girls take a morning dip and our hearts are nudged open just a crack to the new possibilities he has for us in this land and people, new to us, but loved long by him.

Presence

"Submit yourselves, therefore, to God.... Draw near to God and he will draw near to you." James 4:7-8

...attendance
Attending a birthday party or sending a card. Giving a hug to your mom or sending an email. Holding my niece in person or seeing a picture. Being there or not. Present or absent. We appreciate when someone is with us in spirit, but it is oh so much better when their bodies come along with them. To laugh and chat at the birthday party. To feel mom's arms around me. To look into the eyes of the newborn niece. We experience the difference between presence and absence of special people in our lives daily.

...absent
Two days ago, we were present for the last time with our church family here in Estonia. Breaking bread together, encouraging one another, spending time together, knowing that we will be absent in these family celebrations from now on. We shed buckets of tears and used plenty of tissue. We hugged and sniffled our way through so many good-byes. They will feel our absence and we will feel theirs. Our brothers and sisters in Estonia sent us as we embark on a new mission with love and encouragement. Our pastor gave us a very timely reminder about God's presence in our lives.

...present
How sad it would be if God were not present. How wonderful when we experience his arms of love around us. "Submit yourselves, therefore, to God. Draw near to God, and he will draw near to you." His nearness is so precious, the reality of God so reassuring. But until we lay everything on the altar, submitting completely to his will in obedience, drawing near to him on his terms, he does not reveal his presence completely either. We cannot prove the delights of his love until we choose to trust and obey. We walk through this week of good-byes sensing the absence of dear friends already. We walk in obedience and trust, and God's nearness, his powerful presence enfolds us, surrounds us, and allows us to carry on in hope. He attends me. He shows up, in person. He, the maker of heaven and earth, chooses to reveal himself and draws near to me.

Cushion

"The Lord will keep you from all harm—He will watch over your life; the Lord will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore." (vv. 7-8)

July. Our month of comings and goings. And in the midst of it all, my sister sent me this encouraging note. Coming from an MK who moved after 9th grade, she's the only one I know who may truly understand how my daughter, Lissy, feels about our going. Transition stress is also a current experience for her. She understands me better than she knows.

Just want you to know I've been holding you up in prayer today. I am trusting God to bring buyers for your car and house and to help you get everything done without feeling too stressed in the next couple weeks. But mostly I pray for your heart. I can't really imagine all the emotions which must flood into your mind and heart throughout each day, but I'm sure they are a jumble of sadness, anticipation, apprehension, grief, etc. Although I can't say I totally understand, I do remember vividly what it was like to stand on the steps of the Garuda plane looking back at my "homeland" knowing I would never see it again . . . and then crying all the way to Jakarta. I had only had a couple weeks to absorb the news, and I think I was still stunned. I know God has given you a love for the land and people of Estonia, and it must wrench your heart to say good-bye to it all . . . and yet there is so much ahead which will be fulfilling, but still unknown, and different . . . I pray that He who created your heart will sustain and cushion it during this transition, and that He will do the same for each of your family. I know He is big enough to carry Lissy through the unknown and use this year to draw her closer to Him. I know He is big enough to give you the wisdom, grace, and strength to face a new country and climate and culture and language. I know He is big enough to enable Brian to teach a bunch of classes he has never taught before. I know He is big enough to be all that you need. I saw a phrase yesterday which says it better that I can: "I know I am not, but I know I AM." I pray that you will know the empowering and tender compassion of I AM today. I don't even pretend to understand what you're going through, but I do understand a jumble of emotions while following God in trust to an unknown place . . . I hope these promises from Psalm 121 will encourage you today: "The Lord will keep you from all harm—He will watch over your life; the Lord will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore." (vv. 7-8)

Yes, God will sustain and cushion our hearts. He will watch over our lives. He watches our going from Estonia. He watches our coming to Cameroon. And I believe this cushion is softer because people like my sister and dear friends in our supporting churches take the time to pray and to encourage us. I know I am not capable to bring my family through this, but I know I AM, and I AM is watching me, creating a pillow for each of our hearts.