Never Alone

We were most definitely created for relationship. No matter who you are, how independent or strong, there comes a time when each of us wants to belong, feel welcome, known...

This week Dusty and I went to Boise. We figured since we're about 30 days from the move it MIGHT be a good idea to procure housing for our boys :). 

A couple gracious families agreed to keep Dax and Draes, and they had a great time. I figured Draes would take it the hardest, being so young and my more "clingy" of the two.

I was surprised. Dax got very emotional upon our return, "I just missed you so much." (Even though he'd been running and playing like a banshee on 5 acres the entire time.) He has since been at my side CONSTANTLY. But the precious moment came this morning when he and Draes reunited. Dax got up from his chair with a big smile and came to give his brother a hug and a kiss. Draes, in turn, grunted and started bouncing up and down. "Thank you for waking up Draes to come and see me," Dax said. But I could see it in his eyes... this was "home." This is what family was suppose to be: Daddy, Mommy, Daxton and Draes. 

All day we've experienced tears and had to reassure him we're all together and Mommy and Daddy will never leave him alone. I'm realizing it's simply going to take a couple days for him to see things will be as they were and we're telling the truth. We will never leave him alone.

I find myself wondering why we have to remind him. We told him before we left. We told him we'd be back. We've told him since we've BEEN back...

Funny thing is... as I look at this "thing" we are called to in Boise. There are days, moments when I shed tears. I wonder "what are we doing?" Not because I'm unsure of God's call, not because I'm unsure of His power. It's the sheer magnitude of it. Here we are moving to a land we don't know, hoping to share Christ with a people we don't fully understand, uprooting our family and others' families, leaving people we love desperately... It's in those moments I feel myself, much like my four-year-old, clinging to Jesus's leg, as it were, crying out in simple fear of the unknown, "Jesus, please go with us. Please don't leave us alone." And he smiles and whispers to me, as I whisper to my small one, who cannot see beyond his own perspective, "You are never alone. Never alone."

Excuse me while I go find my son and hold him a little tighter.