“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.
…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.