I am back from my impromptu trip to the States. It was a good trip —filled with many thoughts, feelings, longings, dreams, heart-hopes and heartaches. It answered some questions and raised even more. It wasn't quite as restful as I had hoped, but that's okay—I pretty much thrive on my heart and mind running a hundred miles an hour. God is doing good things. God is doing big things. I don't know what it all will look like or what it all means, but I am excited. In the meantime, I am right where I want to be: at home with the people I love.
One of the biggest things I was reminded of while I was away is that the best gift I can give my children is the Gift of Me. No material possession, no adventurous experience, no gourmet meal, no stellar home-education and no well-thought-out child training can ever live up to just being with my kids. Just sitting next to them, listening to their stories, playing their games, reading their books, laughing at their antics, and breathing in the innocence and potential and purpose that just oozes from their every pore. If something were to happen to me and today was all that they could remember, I can smile knowing that they would remember the books and the cuddles and the cookie baking and the spur-of-the-moment picnic on my bedroom floor (where the cool A/C blows strong!)
My children need me more than they need anything from me.
And I need God more that I need anything from God.
Funny how that works.