So I've been walking a trail these past few weeks
and it's weaving its nosy little way
into the pages of my story.
It's a blessed time of the face-to-face
with those dear who live mostly always now
an ocean away.
But the wailing it has been lulled and yet
piercing in its place keaning
of the wounded heart.
the one deep in deepest me.
I seem to be picking off the scabs
in each present place...longing for more
in the meeting and seeing and hugs
full of tender caring
almost an immediate grief.
I've been asking why even as I know.
It's the part of the story that will
never be written a page without pain.
It's the Longing for Home
I just want, you know, everyone
I have ever loved and longed for
to be together
with no time constraints.
My daughter is a mini me
I've seen her lay on the ground
and wail when the goodbye
comes too quickly.
it is always too quick...
I am amazed, there is no teaching
of the grief here.
It's written in her soul that
loves without restraint and I
see a mirror.
A mirror to the pain of the goodbyes
they started so young for my
third culture loves. And they
aren't going to stop and the
new friends. yes, they are with us
in our new home.
But there's heart languages absent
to overcome and spirit language
to learn. there's amazing friends
called yet further away
and in the end
there is only one place of rest
it's in the One who holds every, single
tear. Who will never waste the pain
Who in the nothings of the lonely
and the surrender of what I would
always, always, always want to keep
grants that I might possess a rest
that clings to Forever. to Him.
and finds the strength to Live.
Joining the Five Minute Friday @ Lisajobaker.com