It’s Tuesday afternoon in Vegas. The sun is shining. The breeze is cool. Gauzy white clouds wisp all around the edges of the sky. An airplane flies high above and I only half notice the faint roar as it soars past. My kids are riding their bikes. Amelia in shorts and a belle t-shirt. Stella in grey leggings with paint splatters and cat heads, furry boots and a pink and purple under armor shirt. They are happy, riding in the sunshine. In an hour, papi and Amelia will head out to her soccer practice while Stella and I remain home finishing up supper. A pork tenderloin cooks away in the crockpot with cumin, orange juice, lime juice, cilantro and other spices. Rice steams on the stove and soon a bubbly pot of red beans will be underway. This was a favorite meal of our family in the Dominican. And while, by all accounts we seem to be doing well, adjusting fine, fitting in… Today my heart is… heavy. sad.
I knew I wouldn’t feel “it” right away. When we returned to Las Vegas a month ago from the DR we had given ourselves just six days before we jumped into our new routine. We arrived on Monday August 28, and Tuesday I went my first homeschool mom’s meeting, on Thursday, the kids and I attended our first homeschool park day which was appropriately themed “back to school.” We had dentist appointments, OB appointments, and a myriad of activity to keep us on the move.
The following Monday Alan began his new job search and I began my new job- teacher. I dove in with gusto and as we end the fourth week, our first full month, my heart is full in this area. Alan and I wanted to homeschool. I felt called to teach the girls in this next season and I knew it would continue to unify our family. We didn’t feel comfortable with so many new life changes to also add public school to the mix. We want to be the primary influencers, disciple-ers, and shepherds of our girls, though not the only influencers. We value learning from others different from us and community, family, and friendship. After a month, I feel even more committed to this called to homeschool.
But today, this week specifically I find myself retreating. I have the ability to both detach from situations and people and also be highly attached and sentimental to times, places, traditions, and people. There’s a lot these next few months represent. October 2nd is the anniversary of my second miscarriage. In the moment I felt detached from the whole situation, but almost a year later, this event was the first domino to fall and begin what would become the most brutal six months of my life, that is, until I arrived in Vegas in March this year for our leave of absence, which then would lead to a major life change including an international move. I am not sure I can begin to unpack the layers of feelings in my heart, but I know they are wrapped in the compassionate wings of our Father; my protector, defender, savior.
As I mourn the losses, stare in the face of the unknown and await the hope of new life my silent heart aches and yet rejoices in knowing that he makes all things new and springs forth new life, new desires, new love. He is all things new and right and I trust in time, as he continues to heal and lead me to new heights he will replace my aching heart with that of one that beats vibrantly, that can look back on the past and appreciate all the wisdom gained while loving living in the moment full of excitement for what’s ahead.
I am not there today. But I trust he will lead me there. Hope and healing are on the horizon.
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