Breakfast cereal is a pretty special treat around here. It's costs between $3 & $7 dollars for a small box. We eat it on special occasions and every now and then on a Friday morning as a little a welcome to coming the weekend.
We've never said the words "Cereal is a special treat" to our children. But somehow they know. Long after the cereal is gone and the boxes are empty, my children hoard them and pretend to eat cereal in their play kitchen. They're not alone. I've noticed empty cereal boxes at a least one of their American friend's apartments.
It's funny the things that make it hard to be here. Some times it's the big stuff: inadequate emergency medical care, missing weddings, funerals, and new babies (Love you, Mackenzie Elizabeth!). But sometimes it's the little things like not being able to have a dog, a backyard, or a hug from my sister.
And sometimes all these little things add up to something bigger and the pain in my heart overflows until my eyes fill with tears.
I try to blink them back as I stare at her across the room, puttering around with her empty cereal boxes and milk carton.
My heart full of hurt knows deep down that His best for me is His best for her. And His best for her is His best for me. It is not an accident that she is mine and we are here. I don't doubt that but that doesn't make it easy. Less difficult, maybe, but certainly not easy.
Our guests the night before had stayed til well after midnight. Even then it was hard to see the six of them go. So many goodbyes on this shallow earth. My heart longs for the day when they will be no more.
I was up at 5:30am the next day to talk with my sisterhood. We share our hearts and our hurts, as well as triumphs and joys. We lay it all as His feet for another week. The morning time together ends with tears as we say goodbye again to the sister that's moving on.
I head home to have language class with my hubby and babies. Nearly 2 hours later, I skip out 15 minutes early to make lunch. After the bowls are cleared and the little mighty man sleeping, I decide to just close my eyes for one second before starting preschool with the princess.
And this is the scene to which I awake, her whispering to herself as she sets out plastic play dishes and empty cereal boxes around their school table. I blink back tears and wonder if we've ruined her. Our move in November will be her 9th in four and a half years.
Quiet peace in my soul implores me to listen more closely. I strain to discern her whisperings and realize she's not speaking English. I strain a little more and realizes she's reviewing. With each whisper her tiny hand touches an object on the table and she says the local word. "Niu2nai3, wan3, shao2zi0..." (milk, bowl, spoon...)
"Hi, mom." She catches me watching her. "Hi, boo." I reply, my aching heart soothed slightly by the sweetness in her voice.
How I long for my mom to really know her, for her to share her love of books with my sister, and her silly sense of humor with my brother. It's not the empty cereal boxes that make me cry. It's the emptiness I feel sometimes when I think too long about the life we've left behind.
"Baba left. He said not to wake you up."
"Thanks, babe. Ready for school?"
She settles in next to me on the couch and I find myself thanking Him for her sweet spirit, her brown eyes that stare up at me and take me back to those newborn baby days - my first days on this incredible journey called motherhood. Just as it's the little things that bring me so much joy, it's also the little things that can be so painful.
So I swallow the lump in my throat and I breathe in. "You are worthy." And I breathe out. "You are worth it. It's hard and it hurts, but you are worth it all."
If I'm being honest I have to admit, I wouldn't let her eat cereal every morning in the States either. It's expensive there too and not exactly the most healthy.
But there's nothing wrong with breakfast cereal unless I want that more than I want Him. There's nothing wrong with loving and missing my precious family, unless I love them more than I love Him. It's the little things that bring me here, to this place in my heart where I can say "I want you more than anything else. I choose you over everything else. Sometimes it's hard and sometimes it hurts, but You are worthy and You are worth it." In turn, He fills my heart with the greatest of joy in the littlest of things - whispered reviewing, recycled boxes, sweet memories of precious days gone by. Contentment today is found in the little things.