Every day this week I’ve been remembering things in glimpses . . . maybe you’d like some glimpses, too?
I can still taste the strawberry-lime smoothies that we sipped that crazy Friday afternoon as we realized Melissa might be adopting Darling.
I remember the exhaustion of waking up every hour the night before our trip to Managua.
I laugh at the memory of hurriedly brushing our teeth in the car on our way to the Department of Family.
And we walked between buildings and Darling and I stayed behind at a playground while Pablo and Melissa went on ahead . . . and I sat down on a swing and realized, “This is it.”
I sat on that swing and Darling scampered about, asking why we couldn’t be with Melissa. An old woman came up to me and I found out her name was Grace . . . and as I prayed for God’s grace, I heard Melissa’s voice and everything had gone so smoothly.
I remember sitting in the parking lot at the mall as Melissa called her parents. Darling and I had a pillow fight and laughed, but my head throbbed and it was hot and I wanted to breathe the mountain air of Matagalpa.
Then that adventure of finding the police station . . . complete with someone pointing one way and another pointing the opposite way, with a horse stubbornly trotting in front of us, with a construction crew in the middle of the road, and with the cheers we all let out when we came upon a huge police station in the middle of nowhere.
We went back to the conference room with a man whose green eyes shone kindness and gentleness, and as he rose to turn on the air conditioning for us, he pulled a lollipop out of a bowl on a table and presented it to Darling.
And when we realized how high in command this man was, we were grateful we hadn’t known it before.
When it was all over and we started to get back into the truck, Melissa and I clung to each other . . . the excitement and joy and amazement and exhaustion started to set in and we laughed and wanted to cry.
Then, when we stopped for dinner and that food – just simple, Nicaraguan rice and beans, shredded beef, and plantains – replenished us and eased our aching heads until we could breathe our mountain air of home again.
In remembering the beginning of this week, Melissa and I look at each other and realize how mind-blowing it is to see our Father work. And he’s nowhere near done . . .
He’s telling us: expand, explode, and thrive.
“Then our mouth was filled with laughter, and our tongue with shouts of joy; then they said among the nations, ‘The Lord has done great things for them.’ ” – Psalms 126:2