Thursday, June 28, 2012

Home

Home. Such a small word packed with so much meaning and emotion. On the one hand you don't have to explain it, because the word says it all. On the other hand there are so many things that are embodied in "home" we could use up all the ink in the world trying to describe it. Just yesterday I woke with Lakin on my heart and mind. Some days are easier than others when I can simply think, "this waiting is part of the process." Still other days I wake and find it hard to put one foot in front of the other because of the distractions of her... her safety, her health, her circumstances. We have reminders of her all over the house (bunk beds, empty peg for backpacks and jackets, Christmas gifts still in boxes, clothes packed up from her big sister, etc). So yesterday I talked to Regan about cleaning out her room in an effort to have one thing off the "to do" list for when the call comes. Next I moved to the laundry room to reorganize and move the kids "drop-off station" to the hallway rather than the cramped laundry room. While cleaning out the laundry room I found tucked in a plastic bin a banner that stretches a few feet long and reads: Welcome Home. Home. I let my eyes fix on the word for a second and ran my fingers across each letter. Tears filled my eyes and I sat in the floor looking around at our Home. Filled with laughter, outbursts of tears over someone not sharing, empty beds, leftover food, and enough love to go around and pour out, I had to wonder if any of this would be familiar to her. Probably not. What is so "normal" to us and what we find to be such blessings are going to be totally foreign to her. She has nothing in "her world" to compare "our world" to. It's overwhelming to take in and to think through. Merging these two worlds will start and stop here: Home. Our longing for her doesn't take away from our certain, steadfast, confidant faith that God's timing and sovereignty are perfect. We fully believe His plan is perfect for us, for her. However, He gives us the innate desires, the longing, in order to push us to trust Him more. He understands longing for children more than anyone. He understands it fully, without distortion of Truth or influence of attitudes, emotions, or others. He longs to see each one come to faith in Him alone, for each one to follow Him wholeheartedly. His longing for each heart and life was so great He sent Jesus to offer a way to restore us, in order that He could have a relationship with us. Longing is painful. He knows it well. And He has even gone now to prepare a place for us, those of us who are Christ followers. He has gone to prepare for us a Home. As we work to get things ready around here for our new addition I am trying desperately to let these things be tangible reminders for me of how Jesus has gone to prepare a place for me. We are fooling ourselves if we think He doesn't long for us to see it. Just like sweet Lakin has nothing in her life right now to compare to what she will have here, try as we might to explain it in mere words, we, too have something waiting for us that we can't fathom. His word has painted beautiful pictures of what awaits us, but I have a feeling our minds can't conceive it because we have nothing in this world to compare it to. So we, too, wait for our permanent Home. Lakin's first physical home is Ethiopia. We are honored to give her a permanent home. As believer's, our first home is here, planet Earth. But, our permanent home is Heaven, being prepared for us even now. I pray as we walk out these days in the wait we will be diligent to point others to Him and His pursuit of us. It brings me to my knees in tears to even consider that our Father waits for us with this kind of passion and longing to show us what He has for us: Our Home. So, I am off to buy initials to hang over each of those pegs at the "drop-off station" for the kids. One peg per kid. One initial over each one. But one hangs empty and waiting. The first time she walks in, recognizes her initial, realizes it's all hers, and hangs up her bags and coat I will cry. I will know she knows she is home.