I don’t want to leave.
Sitting here in my dad’s recliner, watching the
hummingbird feeders in the backyard sway against the wind, I don’t want to
leave.
I have always felt divided between worlds. Loving my family, wanting to be close to
them, and wanting to experience the world, loving them from afar.
And it is in this moment that I want to stay with them.
I want to be near them, to love them, to listen to them,
to have my heart fed with who they are.
This trip has been extraordinary, and not because of
anything we’ve done, or because we’re suddenly an extraordinary family—because
we’re not. We’re simply who we are.
But my love for them has been magnified in a way that
I’ve never before experienced.
God has opened my eyes and my heart to loving them, so
completely, so fully, so compassionately.
Mom still complains, Dad is still impatient, Steven is
still…Steven. But the love I have for
them is different and I’ve been able to experience them in such a different
way.
Because of God and how He has changed my heart.
I can love them like I’ve never been able to, pushing
through the negativity, the impatience, the handicap.
Precious.
This is a precious time, and with each passing day I grow
both sadder and happier.
