When Regular Life Falls Away

Two weeks from today we’ll be heading to the airport. We’ll spend a few hours on the ground in Washington, D.C. (never been there before), and then fly across the Atlantic (never done that before). We’ll spend maybe 45 minutes on the ground in Rome (my first contact with Europe) and then fly off to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia (yeah, never been there either).

If you noticed the trend, you could probably guess my international travel experience begins and ends with Canada. So this is going to be new and different. Plus that whole thing where I get to meet my son. It’s hard to put into words exactly what we’re feeling right now.

We’re excited. We’re stressed. We’re giddy. We’re tired. We’re overjoyed. We’re busy.

We’ve got a lot to do. Our to do list keeps getting longer, but we’re hacking away at it. It’s amazing how the things of everyday life begin to fall away as you realize what’s really important. Some of my side projects are being neglected right now. Other distractions I just don’t have the time for. I do still manage to find time for certain stress-reducing diversions (preserving sanity is a priority). There’s somehow time for tickling, laughing or just sitting with Lexi. What needs to happen does, and the rest falls away.

Amidst all the joyful stress of bringing Milo home, we’re also dealing with a concurrent family crisis that we can’t ignore and the continued economic uncertainty isn’t going away. It’s a trying time. But for all the heartache and stress, it’s also a jubilant time. A year and a half effort to expand our family is finally happening and no amount of stress or crisis can extinguish that joy.

I find myself crashing well after bed time, throwing out reminders and questions to Abby until we both grow quiet and hopefully drift off to sleep (though probably continue going over to do lists and questions to ourselves). In the quiet I find myself praying stream of consciousness prayers. They slip in and out, finding and losing thoughts, rambling, like a child desperately trying to tell a parent everything on their mind and heart before they forget. Like a child pleading for understanding, compassion, grace, rescue and comfort. I don’t know any other way. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

In about two weeks I get to meet my son.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.