Seeing Ezra with his grandparents is sortof like watching someone reach waaaaaay under the couch to finally find that one last puzzle piece that has been missing for months- popping it into place with a satisfied grin and a feeling of making something whole.
This trip has felt different for a couple of reasons. One: It is not a rushed visit, and, Two: Ezra is old enough to know and remember these people who think he’s lovlier than a tall glass of chilled lemonade on a hot day. And he feels the same way about them.
There is a strong desire rising up in me again to somehow mesh my two worlds together. To somehow mesh family with the life we’ve created out on our own. And while I know this is impossible, this trip is the next best thing. And I’m so grateful to be able to be here for two months. We are so fortunate to even have the opportunity to do so.
When we put Ezra down for bed at night, we ask him what he would like to pray for. Some nights he asks to pray for rocks. Some nights he wants to pray for doggies. A couple of nights ago he asked if we could pray for church.
“You’d like to pray for the church?” I asked, thinking how profound my almost three-year-old could be.
“Church friends.”, he corrected me.
So, we prayed for all of Ezra’s friends that he plays with at church on Sundays back in Oklahoma. We prayed for their families and prayed that Ezra wouldn’t feel too sad to not be able to play with them for awhile.
I think he feels the desire to mesh his worlds, as well.
It got me thinking, though. If I really could magically mesh my worlds together, they would no longer be the same. They would be… smooshed. Different. And, isn’t it wonderful to have two (three? four? more?) places that feel like home in this world rather than trying to condense them all together and create some super comfy and safe place that you’d never have reason to leave?
I don’t really know what I’m trying to say here, other than the realization that we spend so much of our lives trying to re-capture the happy moments of our pasts- trying to get them all under one roof so we can deadbolt the doors and refrain from letting anything good slip from our grasps. And it makes me wonder, what are we missing out on if we’re living in lock-down like that? How many more happy moments are passing by on the street outside- unable to come in while we’re unwilling to go out?
My life is richer and fuller due, in part, to the risks and ventures I’ve taken into the unknown. And, even though it causes me to sometimes feel like my heart is constantly being pulled between two places, I’m begining to see that all the exercise has been causing me to grow.
It is very true that home is where the heart is.
And I am rich with homes.