Don’t get me wrong.  If you’ve stopped by this little corner of the internet before, you know that we love this life.  That we feel both blessed and honored to serve our God and King as we travel.  We find joy in the simple life we lead, the beautiful places we’ve been, and the amazing folks we’ve met and worked with.  And the way we’ve seen God working all around this country.  All good. All very good.  But this week the pull to be home was very strong.  Very strong indeed.

First there was this little guy.

It’s one thing to say in your head that you’ll be OK not holding that precious baby until Christmas, but it’s a whole ‘nuther thing when he’s actually born and your Gramma heart starts to melt.  Toby went back to work on Tuesday and I know any sleep deprived mother of five would be a bit overwhelmed on that first day going solo. Tammy has a wonderful network of friends and family in the area and I know she handled it well. There were meals in the freezer and big sisters eager to take a turn holding Reis, but still. Oh, how I wanted to be there to fold the laundry and make a batch of mac and cheese and pack lunches and help with homework and take MY turn at holding that little boy.

It was hard to be so far away.

Then there was the phone call on Wednesday from our other son saying he was in the ER with his wife who had fallen at church and might have a broken arm.  When all the dust settled and the X-rays were read, it was a radial fracture of the elbow with a seriously sprained wrist.  Way better than a broken arm to be sure (no cast, just a sling and some PT), but still tough with a 2 year old.

They got the crisis worked out just fine without me, but still. Oh, how I longed to be there to tuck Abigail into bed and tell her not to worry. That Grams was there to care for little Weston, and make sure meals were made and laundry was done.  And tuck Weston into bed, too.

It was hard to be so far away.

And then there was Thursday, and Uncle Rich’s Memorial Service in Massachusetts. We would have loved to have been there to celebrate his life with those who also loved him.  To cry and laugh and remember along with that dear family.  And to hold them.  They were surrounded by a host of friends and family who loved their Dad and I know they were hugged long and well through that hard good-bye day, but still. Oh, how we both longed to be there and to give our own hugs. And to maybe get a couple ourselves.

It was hard to be so far away.

We don’t have many weeks like this. Not many at all. And for that we are thankful. Because even though it was a rough week, with the heartstrings pulled taut, we still feel that we are right where we are supposed to be.  For now. For this time.

And we’ll do our best to bloom where we’ve been planted.