The movers have arrived. I would say that they brought the tears with them, but the truth is that I have been crying about this move for quite awhile. This move is harder than most. We all love Alaska, and our hearts long to stay.
But God calls us on.
Maybe soon we can return. Maybe this will just be a short season. I don’t know. I can’t see the future, and I can’t order God. My head knows He is always faithful, yet my heart still hurts.
But on we go.
I hold crying children. I deal with extreme crabbiness (and not all of that is from the kids). What can I say in these moments? How do I help them? I don’t know all the answers, but I do know that I can’t save them from this pain. We have to walk through this.
Not around it.
Not over it.
And maybe, just maybe, in the walking through it, we will grow. Maybe we will see what dependence on God is all about. Maybe we will see the depths of His love and live in that love in ways we haven’t dreamed of.
Or maybe we won’t. Maybe this time we won’t get to know the whats and whys. Maybe this time the struggle isn’t for us but for someone else. Maybe we will never know, but we have to be okay with that too.
Because this life isn’t really about us. It’s not about our wants and desires. It’s not about feeling good and avoiding all pain. It is about presenting “our souls and bodies, to be a reasonable, holy, and living sacrifice” (Book of Common Prayer).
So what do I tell my kids (and myself)? Being bluntly honest me, I tell them all of that. Then I smile (weakly) and say:
We’re taking a step of faith.
...a self-avowed "Wander Woman," homeschools her three children while traipsing the globe with her Army Chaplain husband. Her third greatest passion, falling below her love for God and family, is empowering other parents to teach their children.