It’s Tuesday morning and we finally found that last Easter egg that eluded us all Sunday evening. This is such a relief for me because I KNEW I hid 37 eggs, and when we only came up with 36 I thought I might be losing a little bit more of my already scattered mind.
We celebrated our Savior’s resurrection in a brand new way this year. Let me say up front that our Easter Sunday was wonderful (aside from the fact that all of us except Wayland had on shoes that were just plain wrong – and by “just plain wrong” I either mean too little, not matching the attire, or I should not have worn those heels knowing I would be on my feet for the better part of 5 hours). Yes, it was a good day, just a very different day. Five services in one weekend and one child short kind of different. After finally eating lunch at close to 4pm, and then visiting with our “Indiana grandparents” next door for a while, we had a very impromptu hunt on Sunday night that was restricted to inside the house (downstairs only) because it was getting dark and sprinkling outside. By then, we were all in our pj’s because our feet hurt and we were tired enough to cry. I am not at liberty to tell you if all three of our children who happened to be home participated in this egg hunt, but I can tell you that one of them thought he was too old until I told him there may be an egg with a couple of dollars in it. AND that he better not try and eat one piece of his younger siblings candy if he wasn’t willing to hunt for his own. That did the trick.
We concluded our Easter Sunday by watching the finale of The Bible. As I watched the crucifixion scene, I kept thinking over and over, What kind of love is this? What kind of love is this? It’s indescribable, really. Impossible for us to wrap our human minds around. I realize the only reason I can love, is because He first loved me – when I was completely unloveable, no less. (1 John 4:7-21). I am so very, very thankful.
And that’s not the only reason I’m thankful. Since Nate left homeThursday morning, I have had an amazing amount of peace considering my 15 year old son is halfway around the world. We know he made it safely to Johannesburg, South Africa on Friday evening local time. On Saturday he and his team traveled to the Limpopo Province, about six hours away, and are presently doing a spiritual retreat for some of the AIDS orphans in the area. At some point this week, Nate will have the incredible opportunity to meet Sello – the young man our family has sponsored the past five years, which will be nothing short of awesome, in my humble opinion. I cannot wait for pictures. From meeting up with another youth group on their way to Africa for a mission trip and doing bible study on the plane together, to hearing the heartbreaking stories of some of the youth at the retreat, I know Nathanael is being stretched in his faith, and learning to submit wholly to the work of the Holy Spirit to strengthen and sustain him.
Even though I’ve experienced a great deal of peace with Nate away, I still miss him. His absence is particularly felt when I’m folding laundry. I just can’t quite reconcile myself to five stacks. Or five place settings, for that matter. In an effort to even the scales, we’ve opened our doors for extra kiddos to join our happy, loud, and often crazy household. Still, it will feel good to have our own boy home next week. It will be amazing to see that beautiful smile light up a room and hear him say, “Hey Momma! How was your day?” when he walks in a room.
In the meantime, I’m going to be soaking up time with my three other precious babies over this super laid back (and still pretty cold) Spring Break. Way and I have plans to take the kiddos into Chicago one day this week which should be mucho gusto (and just so you know, by “much gusto” I mean “very fun.”) (Nate isn’t here to translate for me – sorry).