I usually like to blog about happy things. Things that inspire and entertain and maybe make you laugh. But I also like to blog about my struggles and my fears and God's grace. Things may be weighted a little more heavily as I walk through the next few weeks... and if you're here for the entertainment, I apologize. If you don't know what to say, it's okay. You really don't have to say anything at all. But I want to continue the honest record of my life and my heart... so bear with me. It is what it is...
His hugs are small as well.
Almost as if there is nothing there to hold.
Almost as though my arms are empty.
Three to four and then back to three again.
How does one go back to three again?
Two years ago when I began praying for Africa, I had no idea that I was going to
that I would have to grieve like this...
It's so hard to talk about. And I hate that I'm such a relentless, morose whiner right now.
Because no one really knows what to say.
Even Asia seems at a loss for words.
I'm cherishing each moment, so you don't have to tell me to do that.
I'm taking it one day at a time.
I'm praying for strength.
I'm grateful for the opportunity.
I'm even grateful for the heartache.
But none of those things take away the hurt.
It's heart-rending, people.
One of my children is going to go away to Africa in a few short weeks.
For always and ever.
It may sound presumptuous to call him one of my children.
But I cannot explain the way God put him in my heart. And I will not apologize for it.
I will admit to you that in opening my heart to another child - I have opened it to a deep, grievous rupture as well.
And that I was foolishly unprepared for it.
In choosing to love with abandon, I allowed this impending sorrow.
I have no regrets.
But it's so hard.
So very, very hard.