It’s a different year at the beach this summer. With Lydia wearing big girl pants now and the others getting older, vacations can start to feel like vacations and not simply a change of scenery.
As I sit on the beach, watching my family as I read my book under an umbrella, it struck me.
I feel complete.
I cherish each of my children with each of their unique needs as little people with sensitive hearts being shaped everyday.
I look at the 4 of them jumping in the surf with the man I vowed to love for the rest of my days, and I feel complete.
Things are good. My plate is full. I am content with where He has me, what He has put before me, how He is using me to do good works He has already planned in advance for me to do.
But, even within that fullness, there are images that aren’t far from consciousness that I can quickly conjure up.
Last night, using the marvel of modern technology, we “met” a class of 20 school aged children in China. They pushed and shoved to see us on their small screen, each battling to say the same thing, “hello. How are you? Nice to meet you.” Some covered their mouths and giggled with shyness as their teacher, a friend of my parents, explained that they had never “seen a foreigner.” We asked them a few light questions, even named a few of the students who wanted English names, trying to match American names to the sound of their beautiful Chinese names.
As I went to the bed, the images lingered in my mind of children, not these children whose parents were making sacrifices to have them learn English and have more opportunities. I thought of the children whose faces I see online who have no parents and no opportunities who long for a family, who only know the same routine day in and day out, maybe never even leave the walls of the building where they live.
Yet, I feel complete. At least for this season I do.
For now, I will do what I’m called to do.
Be a wife to my husband. A mother to four treasures. And an advocate as I’m able for the children who wait and for the families who bring them home.
For now.
