Five years ago Kyle and I spent our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary in Chicago. We chose our destination because it was the location of the Colombian consulate and we needed visas. We were less than two weeks away from our adoption day.
Five years. Seems like a blink of an eye and a lifetime. So much in such a short time.
This weekend it will be Thirty. Thirty years married. And this, too, seems like yesterday and forever.
We’ve had this tradition. Christmas wedding and holiday season. Escape to a hotel for a night or two. This year three—one for each decade. Also the year we’re living with parents.
So. Later today we’ll pack our bags for our getaway, head south toward a romantic destination. Stopping in route to pick up a SON. (I know, right? Sometimes the best expression is the right emoji.) But perhaps you already know our story. Felipe’s news, shared in my last post, and today is the day he’ll start his own journey. Back to Colombia, at least for now.
Five years here, seems like a blink, and seems like forever. He came a boy, and is leaving a man. Everyone asking, how are feeling? How are you doing? Honest answer. We Don’t Know.
Last night we took two sons to FOGO. Another tradition. Celebrating adoption. Family Anniversary. December 29. Last year we ate FOGO in Denver, crowd of eleven. Seven plus a wife, girlfriend, grand-baby, and a bride-to-be, a couple days shy of a family wedding. Last night, in contrast, was a quiet affair, table for four, celebration and send-off. A twenty-first birthday thrown into the mix. December 22.
It was a restless night, later. Two parents processing too much food and too much thinking. Do we know what we’re doing? Are we doing it right? Somewhere around 3am my husband headed for the couch with a book, and I headed for a trip to the bathroom. Returned to a king-sized bed to myself, more tossing and turning. Praying the prayer that’s never failed. God I trust you. And He answered. Giving this picture. From Scripture. Favorite reference of my pastor friend, and this morning, first thing, I text Randy A—“What is that old testament story you always use as an example of how to pray?”
2 Chronicles 20:12. Jehoshaphat’s story. I read the text, and yes indeed. That’s it. The very thing the Spirit had been saying. All night long.
“We do not know what to do, but our eyes are on you.”
So later today we’ll pack our own smallish bags, and stop by Andover for a son and his two suitcases plus two backpacks. All he needs to do life in a new location?? We do not know what to do, but our eyes are on you. And no kidding.
We’ll say our farewells, and “We love you”—Go with God—and then we’ll watch through the windows of the security checkpoint until our boy disappears from sight.
And I’ll slip my hand inside my husband’s. Glad again for this man and these thirty years of doing all this life together. Every year. Us two and God. No idea what comes next, but knowing EXACTLY where to fix our eyes.
And for the next three days we’re not too old for a bit of romance, and thirty years is more than enough cause for lavish celebration. And maybe a nap.