Monday morning I backed my van out of the garage and closed the garage door. I popped back inside the house to tell the three girls it was time to “head ‘em up, move ‘em out”. They piled in the van and I closed and locked the front door.
As I walked around the back of the van it hit me, this would be the last time I would have to make the journey I was about embark on. I got in the van and continued backing out of the driveway. As I rounded the corner at the intersection just south of my house it dawned on me again that it was the last time I would take this route at this time of the morning.
The back seat was amazingly quiet. As if each girl was reliving the previous four months. I know I was. I was remembering taking this same street on January 14 to pick up Catherine. I remembered the excitement we are all experienced on that day. The great anticipation. The wondering about her, would she like us? What would she be like really? What would this experience really be like?
At times the four months seemed to pass very slowly and at other times it was more like an out-of-control freight train. As I poured my water that morning, I was thinking on this very thing. I was remembering how in the difficult early days the end would never come. And now here it was. Was I ready?
All of Monday just felt weird to me. I was definitely much less celebratory than I thought I would be. I did not expect to have so much introspection that day. I constantly wondered if we had done enough. Did we love enough? Did we trust enough? Were we good enough? Did we share Jesus enough? Did she leave knowing a family in America loved her? Did she leave knowing Jesus loves her?
I hope someday to have answers. But for now I’ll rest and trust that His word won’t return void but will in fact accomplish what He wills.