When my daughters are home, my home is alive. It breathes their energy and exhales their activities. Barbie parts clog the drains, litter the yard and float in the pool. Dinosaurs crowd the sofa, cheerios litter the floor...in every single room. And it is loud. With laughing, screaming, fighting, secrets told in noisy whispers and the pounding of little feet on the wood floors.
Suddenly, the crash of quiet hits my home. And my daughters are gone again. Now the house is barren, empty and I am in mourning. It's this part of divorce that I cannot seem to accept yet. And I struggle because, although I want peace in me, I sometimes think that if I get used to my treasures being away, I will have let them or myself down.
And the struggle continues, but I was forced to see something this morning, courtesy of a friend who speaks truth and life into my dusty spaces.
Time away from my people, my children, allows time for introspection, reflection and a time to be grateful for what I have. Use this time well, look for what God has for me in it... and the gap will be filled with peace, love and a thankfulness for all I have to look forward to when my children return.
Although I cannot wait until Sunday, I am learning that these quiet days are full and worthy also. Tough lesson, but one I must learn.
