I sort of feel like we’re standing on the edge of a dock right now, about to jump into unknown waters. With our kids.
They can’t swim.
What’s going to happen to them? What’s going to happen to us? Will we survive this jump? Will we actually be ok?
My mind can go to about a million places all at once in the span of ten seconds. I can be totally calm, relaxed and trusting the Lord one second and the next I’m wandering down this path of thinking about the worst things that can happen. Seriously. The absolute worst.
I mean just think about getting on an airplane with a five year old and a three year old to fly to the other side of the world where they have never been and no-one speaks their language and everyone looks different than them. What in the world will that be like?!
For many people, myself included at times, that sounds downright terrifying. The fear of the unknown is a powerful emotion. But for us, the thought of landing in Kenya with our kids in tow this time (when we lived in Tanzania in 2010 we also flew into Kenya, to the very same airport where we’ll be landing in just a few short weeks) is so incredibly exhilarating. That place has our hearts. And God has made sure that we’ve never let it go.
When Moses was born, a little over a year after we got back from Tanzania, I remember being so overwhelmed with taking care of this new little life that God had entrusted us with. I was terrified I’d ruin him, break him, or just mess it all up. I was drowning in some sort of undiagnosed post-partum depression and even though I couldn’t put my finger on it at that time, I knew something was wrong. And the thing I remember most clearly from that period in my life was crying out to God, asking him how in the world I was going to do this, and questioning if we could ever get back to Africa now with this tiny human as part of our family. I was angry at God for my breastfeeding problems, I was frustrated at him because I wasn’t immediately better at this whole mothering thing, and I was bitter toward him because I thought, “If I can’t take care of this tiny human well in America, there’s no way I can take care of him well in Africa.”
But do you know what God said to me? He very clearly whispered, “Just as I’ve called you and Jordan to Africa, now I am calling Moses and any other little lives I bless you with.”
It was as simple as that. But from that moment on Jordan and I have known this adventure was never meant for just us. It was never meant to be done alone, without Moses and Zuri. And so now, as we are actually taking this plunge into the great unknown with our kids, we are only clinging to His hand, trusting that He will not let us sink, but that instead there is life on the other side. Life abundant. Waiting for us.
And we can’t wait to tell you all the stories of His great goodness after we make it through this crazy process! Our plane departs August 22nd. We are officially doing this thing!