The Miracle that Brought Me Home
The miracle that brought me home is one I don’t share a ton, but is one of the most amazing things that’s ever happened to me.
The moment they laid my baby in my arms, I was toast.
How could I leave this little miracle?
How could I have ever said that teaching would be what I wanted to do after he was born?
I had no idea how I would feel, and I was officially stuck.
My husband sadly said there was no way we could swing my being a stay-at-home-mom.
Financially we’d solidly built our life to be a two-income home.
I knew I could trust the LORD to bring me home.
I’m not even going to pretend for a second that I didn’t have doubts, but I prayed.
The years kept passing by.
I asked my husband if he thought I could come home again.
I asked every year since my oldest was born.
Fast forward five years later.
I asked again.
He said there was no way, and that he really needed me to stop asking.
This just wasn’t going to happen for us.
And, he admitted, every time I asked, it hurt him to say no.
So, I promised that I wouldn’t ask him ever again.
Halfway through Year 6
I sat at the end of my driveway about to pull away from my home for yet another time.
To look back at their dark bedroom windows knowing all I’d miss again.
I couldn’t bring myself to push the gas pedal.
I went to pray like I always did, but this time I was mad.
“God! You know this hurts me! God, you can fix this. You can stop this pain. Please, God. Stop this pain. I can’t do it anymore. I can’t do it without you, and I cannot keep living like this. It’s breaking me, LORD. You made me like this. I wanted to teach. You made me this mother; God! Please bring me home! I’m out. I’m sick of trying to fix our budget and make extra on the side and do everything I can to provide for myself. I clearly can’t do it, so it’s Yours. I give it to You. I’m out!”
All the way to school I cried my eyes out, which was nothing new.
I dried up my tears, and taught until I finally came home for Christmas break.
I couldn’t even get too excited for Christmas because I knew after two weeks I’d be ripped away from my home again.
Where my heart belonged.
Where I belonged.
My Own Christmas Miracle
For some reason, as we sat in the basement wrapping Christmas gifts, I felt an inward nudge. A push to ask if I could come home.
No. I’d promised.
I felt that it again.
So I told him I didn’t really want to ask, but for some reason felt like I had to.
I apologized profusely, but said I just have this weird feeling I need to ask one more time.
“Can I come home after this school year?”
“You know this isn’t funny to me. Are you serious?”
“Why are you saying this?”
“I don’t know. I just know we can do it. You can come home. Yes.”
Home With My Babies
I don’t know why the Lord kept me teaching six years, and I don’t need to know.
What I do know is that every day with these boys is a dream.
Every single day we learn and laugh and play.
I even fold every tiny little inside out piece of clothing with a big fat smile on my face.
Sometimes I just break down with tears of joy over how my Father works.
Would I be as grateful if I’d gotten all I wanted six years before?
I wish I could say yes, but maybe not.
So, I’ll stop writing now.
My seven-year-old is snuggled up next to me reading a book, and I’d like to praise God for His perfect ways and see what this little bug is doing.