getting there

God not only knows where he's taking you,

but he also knows how to get you there. 

- Roy Lessin

It's been a rough week.

Mark, Jill and six-month-old Lily moved over the weekend.

All the way to Virginia.

I feel that a piece of my heart went with them.

I don't know where or how to stuff the longing for them.

When our oldest, David, left for college,

someone told me that the depth of my pain

was evidence of my love for him.

No matter that he was ready and he'd thrive and love college,

I would miss him, terribly miss our close relationship.

Before I experienced children leaving,

 I categorized moms in two ways.

Either a mom was clingy and too protective, unwilling to let her children go,

or she was so sick of them that she helped them pack and pushed them out the door.

I don't think it's so neatly defined.

Because if a mother - or grandmother - spends years building relationships

with her children, incredible bonds are formed.

A tapestry of memories, inside jokes, favorite foods, late-night conversations,

first days of school, broken rules and broken hearts

are woven like fabric over the years.

And no matter what a mother tells herself,

a child's leaving feels like a ripping apart of that fabric.

She can't turn off her mom-ness as she would turn off the kitchen faucet.

It's very hard to come to terms with this new season of life.

And that is where faith comes in.

There's a quiet, secure assurance that God holds us.

He sees the whole picture of our lives

while we see only a small piece of it.

He has a purpose for wanting Mark and Jill in Virginia,

a purpose that only God, in all his wisdom and love, can know.

Though I miss them terribly,

to trust God is to rely on him more than self and how I feel.

Feelings are so unreliable, says Elisabeth Elliot, but this I know:

 I can absolutely trust God's heart

even when I don't see his hand.

Now faith is being sure of what we hope for

and certain of what we do not see.

Hebrews 11:1



with Lily, two days before the move