It’s been a good week. In spite of life on hold, and a returning cold, there is far too much blessing to ignore, and I must pay attention and live in the joy of all this good.
I sit outside on a Friday afternoon in late October. The sun is summer warm but the breeze smells like fall, and the combination is glorious. My neighbor’s tree is ablaze with red, leaves gathering on her lawn and ours. We’ll be busy with rakes and blower by week’s end, both yards being our responsibility somehow, and we’ll complain later. But today I choose to enjoy.
There’s a strike in Colombia, but all our news this week is good. For now we don’t need the courts, and all our systems are full speed ahead. We’re getting closer, and all of us can feel it – the five of us here and the two of us there. Each time we Skype affection grows on both sides of the border, and it’s a miracle, I think. All this love for boys we’ve never even held in our arms, but our hearts hold them closer than close.
Last Skype Grant asked the boys – What’s your best day ever? Felipe said last fall in Minnesota. Jimmy said the day we asked him to be in our family. And all of us here agreed – the best day hasn’t happened yet. The best day for us will be the day you two come home.
The Colombian school year ends in November. Just over a month and our boys will finish grades eight and ten. Felipe studies trigonometry and chemistry, and he tells us his grades are the best. Even this makes the extra wait count for something. Finish well, we tell him, and all that hard work will be to your advantage.
A couple of nights ago it was just three of us at dinner – Nils with Mom and Dad. We had nowhere to go and we lingered long over good conversation. Nils was chatty and we were all ears. This son turns sixteen in less than a week, and he is so much fun, and yes I know this is a gift.
I’m jumping topics. Thinking about a week full of good, and two surprises yesterday. An unexpected lunch on an outdoor patio with a sweet friend, and later a walk by the river with another young friend. This time of year even the drive to and from work is a gift, a feast for eyes and soul. A glimpse of white birch against red maple, and I soak it in and count the gift.
I complained too many times this week, and now I’m sorry. Complained about being sick, and missing sleep, and plans not working out. But complaining is the enemy of joy, and today I choose joy. I choose to count the good and savor the gifts and offer thanks. It’s been a really good week.