Surprised by Grief

It’s my first morning in my new country.  The 4th country I’ve called home in the last 18 months.  I am waiting for a taxi driver to pick me up so that we can get yet another SIM card for our phones and navigate a new grocery store  so that we can figure out what’s available here.  I should be excited.  I’m not.  I’m just tired.  And sad, very, very sad.  

I didn’t expect this sadness.  After months of stress and frustration about the circumstances in our previous home, I expected relief.  And I do feel relief.  I have complete peace that we made the right decision for our family.  I know that God led us to this place for this time and we’ve not made a mistake.  I know that in the weeks and months ahead, I’ll delight in the joys that will come.  But this morning, I’m grieving the losses we’ve had.

I’m grieving the seperation from my national friends, especially my sidekick Naomi, who made it possible for me to live the last 14 months without loosing my mind.  I’m grieving the amazing Baptist Mission family we had in Nigeria.  They loved us well, better than we deserved.  I’m sad to have left an amazing community of great commission partners who drew their funding from different sources but shared our desire to see Jesus lifted high.  I’m grieving the loss of my beautiful home on my beautiful compound.  I’m grieving the move from a city that I prayed for and I hoped for and that I hurt for.  

Most of all, my heart is heavy for my children.  As we sat on the screen porch at the guest house last night and shared cold pizza (apparently the taxi delivery driver had trouble finding us) I listened to them share their sorrows.  We literally cried through laughter as we reflected on the day.  Watching my 12 year old cling to her missionary “aunt” who has spent 25+ years working in Africa, yet had time to invest in every one of my children was brutal.  Hearing my 14 year old sob as we drove away from the two single ladies who have walked with her through this tough season was heartbreaking.  Listening to my 11 year old tell me there will never be another gate guard like Jimmy who who was willing to teach him about animals and “stuff”, makes me want to get angry.  Angry with the God who has allowed us to take this wild ride.  

But then I hear Him speak to my heart.  He reminds me that He created them.  He loves them.  He desires good things for them.  He is writing their testimonies and I must trust Him.  And I do.  I do trust him.  Except for when I forget to.  Oh, what He is teaching me in these days!  Lessons I don’t want to learn, at least not this way.