The tears started and through the tears there was a nod.
"Let me cut up some of Asher's breakfast and I'll meet you in the living room. We can talk for a bit."
Another tear-stained nod.
"What's going on, hon?"
"I don't want to move."
The house has been sold. We are half way to our final destination. There is no going back. I thought we were past the hard part when we said goodbye. I was wrong. It turns out that was just the beginning.
What I wanted to do was curl up in the fetal position, agree vehemently, and join in the crying. But, I'm the mama so that might feel good to me, but wouldn't be particularly helpful to the situation.
"Sometimes I feel that way too. This is harder than I thought it would be. Taking this pit stop in Nebraska is harder than I thought it would be."
"What are some ways I can make it easier for you? What are some ways we can get to know more people here?"
We're not here long. We're not joining Sunday school or a co-op or dance class or Little League. We're just the homeschoolers in the middle of a long street who are having trouble meeting people. We're taking walks and bike rides and waving hello and saying hi, but that's where it ends. It's not nearly enough when you're used to a street full of friends and more friends just down the road. It's not nearly enough when your heart yearns for a friend.
Our plan is to have an ice cream social this weekend to see if we can meet some other families. To see if we can make this feel a little less like a really painful pit stop and more like a temporary home.
The rest of the day went really well. Turns out that a lot of long hugs and a few heartfelt conversations about this tricky situation go a long way in helping kids feel less sad and lonely. There'll be more hard days as we navigate this unfamiliar road. More tears, more grouchy mornings. There will also be more hugs and more talks on the front couch and more reassurances that we're going to end up right where we're supposed to end up and that this path may feel unfamiliar to us, but God has paved it and walked it and has it ready for us.
I just have to trust in the fact that we'll get through it together. Isn't that what we all hope for? Family to celebrate the successes with and to trudge through the hard days with. People to see us through the junk until we get to the other side and say, "Huh. That sure was hard, but here we are. We made it."
That's what we're doing. Celebrate and trudge, trudge and celebrate. Cry. And hug. Definitely hug.