not being there.

We just skyped family.

And they were so cute. They were so sweet. They were so missed.

Sometimes I just want to go home.

I reassure myself: you’ll be there soon. For two months! You’ll get to see them and hold the little ones and see all the changes, countless changes, that have happened in the past couple years.

But I don’t want to be there for a few months. I want to stay.

We were both a little sad as we said goodbyes, mostly because it was a reminder of how much things are changing. How different things will be when we return. I asked Stephen what it was that made him sad.

“I don’t want to regret not being there.”

It reminds me of a podcast by Erwin McManus. As he opens with prayer, he prays, “Father, my wife and my kids are back home, and I just pray, God, that I’m not on the wrong side of the country for this moment; that you have something you want to do tonight that requires all of us to be together.”

My prayer is very much the same, except I’m praying for these few years, or however many years are ahead of us. If this is it, and if this is what God has, then I pray God would do whatever it is that requires us to be here, to be in this neighborhood, and to be in the middle of these struggles.  Let the kingdom come, and it will be all worth it.

But if this isn’t it, can we just go back home? Can I just go give those kids a hug and be there for that soccer game and this funeral and that Sunday lunch?