We finally picked up Jacob today. We saw him face-to-face, then our usual family bear hug followed soon after. We were so excited to see him after a week of being gone, but the 400-mile drive took a toll on us. We hit stand-still traffic in a construction zone about an hour away from our pick-up spot. It was so bad that Scot had to use the GPS app on his phone so we could find the right back road to take the rest of the way. We hit the same traffic going home.
I was tired. And angry. Jake's dad refused to let me talk with him for the last two days he was there. I left numerous voicemails and text messages on his phone, but no one ever responded. He acted like he didn't care.
The kicker? Jake tells us that they're moving yet again...and they're having another baby. A boy. The baby is due a couple weeks before Jake's birthday.
I want to be happy for them. I really do. But, I'm so darn tired of moving dates. Change of address forms. Change of health insurance. Change of jobs. Change of cars. Change of women. Change of life.
I'm tired of picking up the pieces and putting everything back together.
I just want Jake to be stable. And know what stability looks like. I want him to love God and know what it means to put Him first in his life. I want him to be respectful. A hardworker. Loving others, without expecting anything in return. A good husband. A good father. A God-fearing man.
Sometimes it's overwhelming to think of all the training that's involved in being a parent these days. But, when there's involvement from other people who can sometimes hinder that development, it seems downright impossible.
That's where I stand right now. Discouraged. Tired of taking 20 steps back. Hitting my end of the rope, period.
Raising faith-filled kids in a blended family is hard work. Harder than I ever thought it would be. It's not always pretty. Or easy. Or fun. I don't know what God's plan is for Jacob and our family through all of this, but I know He is active and alive in our hearts. In our home. He is able to do so much more than we could ever imagine. And I'm choosing to trust Him. No matter how angry and frustrated and bewildered I get.
I'm not even going to try to put the pieces back together anymore. I'm going to leave that to Him.
I want to treasure what I have. And not wish for something more.
As I look down at my 8-year old son, sound asleep in his own bed, my heart is throbbing. My eyes are brimming over with tears. Yet, I see nothing but hope. Hope for the work God is going to do and the good that is to come.
My beauty in the midst of pain.
I'm so glad he's here. Safe and sound. I'm so glad he's home.