Will. You. LISTEN.

Yesterday’s post was traumatic.  I’ve reread it about 50 times, considered deleting it about 50 times, and ultimately left it up, not to torture all of you, but to remind myself of just how low I’ve gotten.  Don’t get me wrong-I miss my son.  I miss that guy like macaroni misses cheese.  I’m going to miss my girls.  But as I read…and reread…what I finally realized is that I miss my FATHER.

I’m a hot mess right now.  Physically (my hair looks like Patrick cut it and I could use some makeup), Emotionally (I cried yesterday over EVERYTHING.  My poor hubby gave up and went to lunch with a friend.) and Spiritually.  Seriously.  I went to find my Bible yesterday, and it was in our storage room.  Don’t freak out-I had it on Christmas Eve-but I seriously have no idea how it ended up in that storage room.  Yesterday’s post was a soul-purging, gut-wrenching mess of emotions (And I chose to share it with all of you.  You can thank me later.) that had to come out before I could see where I was.

Yesterday, in between sob-sessions and cleaning my room (when I get upset I throw things away), I was blog-hopping.  I love blogs-they are a little glimpse into someone’s thoughts without the physical agony of actually having to talk to them.  I especially love blogs that make me laugh.  Yesterday, as I was hosting my own pity party complete with noisemakers, the Lord led me to several women who write from their hearts…for the Lord.  I spent most of the afternoon reading their thoughts, their struggles and their triumphs…and it finally hit me.  My problem is not that I am here and my son is there, or that we can’t move back to the US so I can live in my little three bedroom century home with antiques all over the place…my problem is my heart.

I have spent so much time (I tried to figure out when all of this started, and the reality of it made me queasy) complaining about what I don’t have, where I don’t live, and how happy I’m NOT…that it’s become a lifestyle.  Yesterday it was as though the Lord reached down and knocked me in the back of the head and said “Will.  You.  LISTEN.”  I haven’t been (Hello-Bible in the storage room?) in fact, I think I’ve been consciously IGNORING the voice of the Lord, because if He wasn’t saying what I wanted to hear, I wasn’t going to listen.

You’ve heard the saying “It’s not about me.”  Oh, but it is, friends.  It’s all about me, and my lack of faith, and my lousy attitude, and my grouchy demeanor…it is most definitely all about me.

2012 is going to be all about HIM.  I’ve got some work to do (Nothing like overstating the obvious) and, with His guidance and leading, this time next year my prayer is that my blog will reflect His glory, His power and His love.

I’m listening.

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Posted in Me

HERE.

It’s 4:30 in the morning.  Twenty minutes ago we dropped Daniel off at the airport so he can return to Ohio, and then back to college.  This is wrong on absolutely every level.  First, isn’t he too young to fly alone?  Especially internationally?  Unfortunately, no he isn’t.  Somehow he managed to grow up and become all responsible and stuff.  My heart is aching and my tears are making it really hard to see the screen right now (I suppose it’s better than trying to write it by hand and getting the paper all blotchy…silver lining, no?)  We had so much fun while he was here–off to the beach for a few days, Christmas with lots of friends, eating at his favorite restaurants…I loved listening to my children–all four of them–laugh and tease and just enjoy being four again.  I loved having his sense of humor in our house again.  I loved being six again.  The hardest part for me to accept is that we will never really be “six again.”  Daniel will probably never actually live at home again, partly because of where we live.  If we were in the US, the possibility that he would graduate from college, and then come home for a while so he could look for a job (And he has to look for a job.  We’ve made it very clear that being 35 and hanging out on our couch all day is not a career option) would be much more plausible.  Because we live here, where he would need a visa, and a means to earn money, and other silly things like that…He most likely won’t come home.

I don’t know what to do with that.  It’s very easy to blame it on “being HERE.”  We’re HERE, in Ecuador, where I’m 3500 miles from my son (and my girls graduate in 2012 and 2013, so soon I’ll be 3500 miles from three of my four–can’t let my mind go there too often) and it’s easy for me to yell at God and shake my fist and stamp my foot because we’re HERE.  Some missionaries leave the field when their kids go off to college.  I understand that.  My heart is ACHING.  My tears are REAL.  My question is how do I come to grips with the fact that we are probably not leaving the field to be closer to our kids, because it’s not time yet.  He’s made it pretty clear that we need to be HERE.  Even when everything in me wants to pack up my jammies and my dachshund and go to where my son is…and my girls are going to be.  I can find a thousand reasons a minute why we need to go back.  I go there way too often.  I’ve ignored God far more than I’ve listened lately…because He’s not saying what I want to hear.

The reality is I can’t follow my children all over the place.  It’s not fair to them, and it’s not fair to my husband, and it’s not fair to me.  As much as I think I want to be back in the US, in a nice little century home somewhere, with a nice yard and antiques all over the place (told you I’ve thought this over a million times!) where my children could come and we could be six…it’s not time yet.  We are HERE.  Where random fireworks are scaring my dog so badly that his fur is falling out in clumps.  Where I feel so out of control and anxious almost constantly. HERE.  Where I get homemade Christmas presents from second graders who think I’m the coolest thing ever.  Where high school students come and dump their backpacks on the shelf, and then sit on my desk and talk about music, or books, or life…Where sixth grade girls say things like “Mrs. Maloy-can you help me find a book?  You always know exactly what I will like!”  HERE.  Where our lives are happening.  For a reason.  I’m not really sure what that reason is some days.  But there is a reason.

Here’s to 2012.  The year of being HERE.