Tuesday, August 1, 2017

The hardest part

The hardest part of moving across the country hasn't been adjustments that I have personally had to make. Those have honestly been relatively easy and painless. The hardest part for me has been watching my kids adjust to leaving behind all that was familiar. Bug left behind his beloved Art Inspired friends and teachers. Bubby left behind a handful of best buddies he saw twice a week. I hear homesickness in Bubby's prayer requests, the questions they both ask, and the way Bug mentions Miss Jamie and Mr. Richard at least twice a week. I think if I had known how hard this aspect of moving would be, I would not have wanted to move. It would have given me huge reservations. So I guess it is a good thing that I didn't know. I suppose that made it a little act of faith, but it also just feels difficult lately.

I am a worrier and an over-analyzer. I worry because I know how I felt when I moved to Yuma after college - it was the first time in my life that I didn't have close friends near me. I had always had a small group of close friends, and even thinking about those Yuma years now causes me to tense up and tear up a bit. The homesickness was heavy - not for my hometown but for friendship and familiarity. I had it my first few years when we moved back to Springfield, too. The wanting to be  known. The desire for inside jokes and people who know your backstory and your baggage and love you any way. I'm sure that need looks a little different for my boys, but the essence of it is the same. Bubby needs someone who understands his mixture of goofiness and seriousness,  Bug needs a friend or two who can engage even with his physical and social differences.

I would give up all of the friends I have just for my boys to have some, just for them to feel at home here. But it doesn't work that way, so we wait. We wait and pray and have faith that God is even using this season of homesickness for their good and His glory. And we remember that this longing to feel at home is a reminder that there is a better home awaiting us one day. I hope I continue to point my boys to Christ during this, to the friend who sticks closer than a brother, to the one preparing a place for us in heaven. I pray that the broken parts of their hearts are mended in a way that makes them stronger, yet more sensitive, than they might have been otherwise.