Tuesday, October 22, 2013

Crossing the Sahara

We were headed to church Sunday morning, and I wanted to remember these two just like this.  Some days these two little boys can exhaust me more than I thought humanly possibly.  Most days, I just think they grow too quickly.  Chasing a little one and keeping the big one from dreaded boredom is a lifestyle I now live.

It wasn't always.

I remember the moment I just "knew".  I was on a plane headed to Africa as a younger, single woman.  I remember it so clearly.  I was ready.  I was anxious to get settled and have a family.  I dreamed of things like grocery lists and buying tennis shoes for for the first day of school.  I had no idea what motherhood and being a wife really meant, but I wanted it.  I didn't know who Mr. Right would be, but I longed for him.  I knew that life was messy and rarely like any childhood fairy-tale, but I was OK with that.  I was ready to trade my traveling adventures for the adventure of family.  It was like an ache that couldn't be dismissed.  I tried, but I longed for that next step in life.  That desire tainted so many decisions and thoughts.  I even bought baby blankets in Africa for the someday baby I might someday have.

I couldn't have known what the journey would look like.  I never pictured two wiggly, red-headed boys to cradle and love.  I never would have guessed Mr. Right would be a county boy from South Carolina.  But I loved them so, even before I knew their names or saw their faces.  I loved them.  I felt the call in my heart to make this family.

Last night, I had a moment of instant transport to that memory of crossing the Sahara Desert.  I could almost hear the roar of the jets in my ear from that instant permanently etched in my mind.  Here I am in the midst of what was once so longed for.  It is isn't perfect.  But, it is beautiful.

I've come a long way since I crossed the Sahara.

B Charmer

1 comment:

  1. Those are good words to describe life now...mine too. Thanks for being able to beautifully write out these thoughts.


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