Its Wednesday, six days since we came home from the road, six days since we drove through the night in a borrowed car, fearing we might be too late, six days in which the hum of bike tires on pavement has become something of a distant memory.
We spent three nights in a hotel so we could be near mom and support and visit with our kids as they came to see her in London. We spent one night in our own guest room, since we had loaned our house out for most the summer. The last two nights we have been in our trailer on our lawn.
Its hard to know what to do now. My calendar is empty. There are no meetings booked, no preaching engagements to prepare for, no “to do” list of chores around the property. We can’t spend all of our time in London. I have other siblings to share the visiting time with and mom’s ability to have visitors is limited by her strength and hospital rules.
So, its been quiet. Mom has rallied somewhat. I’ve sent out emails to my consulting contacts letting them know I am available again and initiated some conversations about interim ministry that were planned to happen in August. J has come up with a couple of projects in her shop which should fulfill the need to use power tools.In the next week or so we will move back into the house.
But still, things are not right, not normal.
While we are supposed to be here, need to be here, we are really not supposed to be here.
8 “For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
neither are your ways my ways,”
declares the Lord.
9 “As the heavens are higher than the earth,
so are my ways higher than your ways
and my thoughts than your thoughts.