I thought I was ready to send my mom home. I really did.
I was wrong.
You see, He has been doing a work in me over the past few weeks. It is like everything I knew and believed came into question, so I went on a quest to discover what His word says about all my questions. During that journey, it seems that something every single day has shown me how He is to be more important that all the things I miss in America. That I should love Him more than I love my family or Chick-Fil-A. That when the time comes, I must love Him more than my children. I have been holding tightly to my timeframe of saying that when my girls are ready for college, then I will move home. But I can’t move home until He says I can. Until he guides and leads us there. That I have to love Him more than I love being with my girls. I wrestled with this one. I looked for a loophole, but you know what?
There wasn’t one.
He wants my whole heart and all my longings should be for Him alone. So, every time I desired something from home or cried about wanting to be there so my nieces and nephews know who I am, I laid it at His feet. I told Him I loved Him more.
Then I dropped my mom off at the airport. The airport that seems scary when you are navigating it alone. With customs and bags and no one to ask questions to. With all three girls looking at my mom asking why we can’t all live together. And all those desires I had laid down at His feet…I picked them back up again. I held them in my heart with closed fists and white knuckles as tears poured down my face. I questioned whether or not I truly do love Him more. It’s a daily, hourly, minute by minute sacrifice in which my fingers have to be
ripped pried gently away from my fleshly wants and exchanged with His “perfect for me” will.