okay...one more.

just one of the two of them.

11 months.

It's been 11 months since we passed court and Lucia became our daughter. It's about 30 days early, I know, for celebrating a year anniversary. However, we saw friends earlier today. They're in a time of waiting for their own court date to take place. Looking forward to traveling and holding their little girl for the first time, possibly in December. They have this longing to stay calm and to trust in the midst of great uncertainty and their longing is familiar. In truth, much of their story is reminiscent of ours.

So, I am recalling all that took place now. A little early, yes. Early is okay though. It has been a truly amazing journey.

I wrote about our trip to Ethiopia last January. I've been skipping & scrolling through my words tonight. It's really good to remember those short, life altering, days.

One little story I don't think that I shared last winter has been playing through my mind lately.

Walking (barely) off the last airplane...into the Gerald R. Ford Airport...Rob with Lucia in his arms and dragging all our bags...me with nothing (as I felt like I was going to fall over)...a crowd of people waiting...in the middle of them all, Tessa...

She came running to us. I noticed her little wrists were adorned with new bracelets. One with the letters, "T-E-S-S-A," and the other, "L-U-C-I-A." Tessa held our her arms to us. Rob asked her, referring to Lucia of course, "Do you know who this is?"

Tessa answered slowly, "My. Sis. Ter." And she reached a gentle hand to Lucia's cheek.

Each syllable was drawn out with emotion. She was smiling from ear to ear.

This morning, at Tabernacle, Pastor Marvin asked us to think about a time when we were awed by God. He mentioned several of his own. When he first knew Jesus as his Redeemer. Being called into the ministry. The birth of his children.

I thought about that moment in the airport. On my knees, next to my husband and my two daughters. All four of us, for the first time, together. After so many miles. It was one of those moments. Time was still. I was in awe of all God had done to bring our little family together.

I was in awe of Him.

Just the memory of that moment.

I am in awe of Him.

Thoughts on being separated.

One of my dearest friends, Kendra, called yesterday to tell me that her mother had died. It was sudden, very unexpected.

I didn't know what to say. I kept blubbering, "I love you. I am so sorry."

Later, I prayed for her family. For peace. For the Spirit to pour out grace and mercy. Encouragement. Strength. Understanding. For them to be overwhelmed by God's love. And by His amazing truth.

That He has redeemed us through the work of Jesus Christ.

Death's sting is gone. Amen! It's gone!

"Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?" -1 Cor. 15:55

My friend's mother, Mary Claire, has departed from her many grandchildren, two daughters and their husbands, a son and his wife, and her very own loving spouse. I can only imagine the countless other family members, church family members, and friends. All missing her today. All grieving and remembering. Laughing and weeping. Together.

Mary Claire taught me how to make strawberry jam. It was a fourth of July weekend a few summers ago. Kendra, Lindsey and I were gathered at her kitchen island, hulling the berries and pouring the sugar. The jam was delicious. But the memory is sweeter. Especially today.

So, I am thoughtful. I continue imagining all that Kendra and her family must be feeling and saying, believing and wondering. It's difficult to imagine.
My heart mourns with Kendra. With her children. And her husband.

[Kendra, I love you. I think of the relevancy of our discussions lately. Pursuing a "kingdom-like perspective." He is coming soon. What great hope we have in Christ!]

I am also thoughtful of the others I've known. Who have departed and gone ahead. Especially my Grandpa.
I was sitting at my parent's kitchen table a few weeks ago. We were talking. And I thought, we should ask Grandpa about this... Suddenly, I realized, we can't. He's not living next door anymore. We can't pick up the phone and call him. So I grieved again, for a moment.

We've been separated. And the separation is difficult and strange.

I wrote this poem on the day my Grandpa passed away. I thought I'd share it now. In memory of Him.
And of Mary Claire.

Today, it seems applicable to both of them.

"And the sun was just arriving

that morning the two travelled

down the path

to say goodbye

though neither knew

that it would be goodbye

and then it was

and the sky began to weep

for a man who had lived

and love

and gave

and was loved."

Love, Glorious Love!

My brother

&

his...

fiance!

They were engaged this past Saturday. I am thrilled for them both!

Love you two lovebirds.

For remembering's sake.

My Tessa loves a good joke. She often creates her own and they always began,
"Knock Knock!"

On the phone with Opi, I hear her.
"Knock Knock Opi!"
Almost every morning. She giggles and smiles. Her eyes are glittering and happy.

I love to watch her enjoy life.

A few nights ago, Opi began...
"Knock Knock!"
"Who's there?"
"I love..."
"I love who?"
"I love you!"

"Oh Opi," she said slowly, "I like that one. That's beautiful Opi."

And instead of giggling, she held on to his words with her heart. And cherished them.

For me, watching and listening, it was a moment I want to remember. For a long, long time.

Hummus [for Laura]

2 cans Garbanzos, drained. Reserve liquid for later.
1/2 cup tahini
1/3 cup fresh lemon juice
1 tsp. kosher salt
4 cloves garlic, roasted
1 Tbsp. EVOO
1/2 tsp. cumin

Blend in a food processor until smooth. Check texture and add water or reserved liquid from the garbanzos until you reach your preferred consistency.

Drizzle EVOO on top and sprinkle with paprika, fresh chopped parsley and sliced kalamata olives.

Serve with cut veggies, pitas, pita chips or tortilla chips.

Next time I make this, I'd love to experiment with adding some roasted red peppers. And now I am salivating...

Wonderful His love.

It was bedtime. And our girls share a room.

We were there, with them. Pulling on their pajamas and straightening pillows. Reading last minute stories and then whispering prayers.

Rob wrapped Lu in her pale green afghan (passed down from Tess). And I curled up next to my eldest daughter.
She, with her thumb her in mouth and I, with my fingers in her hair.

Rob sang softly to Lu.
"For God so loved the world,
that He gave His only Son.
To die on Calvary's tree,
from sin to set me free.
Someday He's coming back,
what glory that will be.
Wonderful His love for me."

Tessa and I listened for a moment and then I spoke.
"Tessa, do you know that your Oma used to sing that song to you. She sang it so often that one evening at the dinner table, you just sang it on your own. All of a sudden. Do you remember? Let's sing it now together."

A smile crept onto her lips and she pulled out her thumb.
We began.
"For God so loved the world..."