Saturday, November 26, 2011

Last Monday

from Monday 11/19 - 

There's nothing like starting out your Monday morning by putting your son in a car with his grandparents while he is sobbing these enormous choking sobs and saying, "I want to be with you always, mom!" over and over.  You'd think I was selling him to slavery instead of sending him with his grandparents for an extra day of family fun.  I mean sheesh!

On some levels I can totally relate, though.  I suppose that's exactly how I sounded about Emt while he was sick.  I could make further parallels about wanting Quinn to grow in maturity and trust, blah blah blah, and try to sound really spiritual.  But really, for many reasons beyond Quinn's control, he just needed to go with his grandparents because I need to be somewhere else.  

As my heart broke with Quinn's this morning, I couldn't help but think of God's heart for me.  I have struggled lately with the longing to have Emt back, and for some reason that struggle is particularly evident in my dreams.  I woke up the other morning with a desire for Emt so strong it was overwhelming, and before I really woke up, I could feel the Spirit pressing a single question into my consciousness.  "Would you really trade my care of you for your own desires?”

And strangely enough, I could answer no, and really mean it.  Because the tenderness of the Lord is so palpable that I can nearly feel his arms around me.

As I type this, I’m sitting in the Nashville airport.  The last time I was here was with Emt, traveling back and forth from Houston.  I opted out in security and got the detested pat down and thought of Emmett. I passed by the restaurants where I would try to tempt him with food and thought of Emmett.  There were so many memories of that airport that I wasn’t expecting.  I remember exactly where we sat in the Starbucks in C terminal, the sandwiches we would get at Provence, the process of pre-boarding.  

Despite the memories, though, there is peace in the midst of uncertainty.  And hope.  Definitely hope.

1 comment:

  1. Wendy, reading your journey definitely gives me hope for my own. There's nothing as encouraging and comforting than to know that you feel the arms of Christ holding you, knowing that He doesn't take away your pain, but He is there in the midst.

    You're always in my prayers.