Luggage has been put away. All the laundry has been done; some pieces worn again and washed again by now. I’m awake and fully functioning as the sun is in the sky and tired and sleeping in the evening, the way it should be. It’s been 10 days since I returned home from China.

I keep looking at the pictures, the images I thought I had so many of that I could nearly flip through them and see an animated film. But, there aren’t enough. I keep hoping that if I look at those images I do have long enough, I will remember more details, more conversations that seemed casual at the time, more of the students’ exact words.

I long to share more. There are so many blog posts half written in my head, an outpouring of my heart in the form of written words about where we are, how we got here, and why we’re here. But, there they stay, and my heart and fast-typing fingers feel the burden of restraint. Everyone who casually asks how things are going or how my trip was is held captive while I recount the stories and share the quotes I keep hearing in my head. Yesterday, my heart was full as I spoke at a women’s group. I had scribbled down an outline on a notecard and took it up to the podium with me. But, I never looked down at it; I didn’t need to.

So, when you read posts about my homemade version of Chinese milk tea and my favorite new eggs with tomatoes recipe (coming soon, hopefully), try them out, share them, adapt them to make them even better. But, know that there is a lot more going on in my heart than tea and eggs and even reflections on parenting and my Chinese daughter. I’m just sitting on my hands because I have to.

Nearly 18 months ago, I lay beside my husband in bed nearly asleep. He was wide awake, still on China time, with his thoughts spinning. “I’d love to do this full-time. But, there’s no way,” he told me. I dreamed with him a little but deep down, I thought he was right.

The next day when someone asked how his two weeks in China had been, I shared how he had used his skillset and giftedness in new ways and was energized, how he would so love to leave the finance industry to do that work for real. She said to me, as if she was consoling me, “Yeah, everyone feels like that when they first get home. Don’t worry. It’ll wear off.”

It didn’t wear off. I’m so thankful it didn’t wear off.

The last 18 months have all led up to this day. We’d take a few steps and see those street signs that said “ONE WAY ONLY.” We tested the call, doubted the call, asked others to confirm the call, struggled through our fears and the unknowns. Putting the last 18 months into words that form only one sentence seems wrong. And yet, just like that, here we are, the day that my husband stood up from his chair and zipped up his bag to come home. He took one more look around his workspace to make sure nothing was left behind, much like that one last walk through before you move out of an apartment you knew was just a temporary residence, never really a home. Some coworkers shook his hand; some gave him a nod; some likely barely looked up from their screens in front of them to bid goodbye. No earthly fanfare as he leaves the industry that God, as only He can, used to train and equip and prepare for something else. But, in this house, we’re all about fanfare. Actually, we’re celebrating today, tomorrow, next week, and everyday thereafter.

As Ashlyn told me this morning, October 4th is my birthday, yes, but I’ll have 100 birthdays, but he’ll only have one day in his life like today. And, this day is the best gift in the world.

Even the place he took me lunch day greeted us with some fanfare (see below sign).

Bring on the adventure.

{his new office (aka basement) when he’s not out and about around here or across the world}