To choose a life like that

A cool and rainy spring break lingers on through the Monday after Easter, and all but one of my kids sleep late.  Eliza, my little shadow, is up and about and ready to hit the grocery with me by mid-morning. A few moments after entering the store a familiar scent hits me.  I literally stop mid-aisle and question Eliza, "Do you smell that?  What does it remind you of?"

I don't wait for an answer, "It smells like Nicaragua."

The store has been under construction for the past few weeks, so I can't place the exact source of the familiar aroma, but it flies me back to our home in Central America.  It is a clean scent, like fresh laundry or newly mopped floors.  I'd forgotten it was ever a part of my life until now.

It's morning there with the windows propped wide behind the black metal bars.  The screens are popping away from their corners having been cut too short by the owner of the house.  We haven't bothered to fix them because the mosquitoes are always finding creative ways to feast on my ankles. 

I hear some tropical bird signaling to the world that six a.m. is past the time for sleep.    As the kids get ready for school, we laugh at the scratching on the roof that reminds us we still haven't named the iguana who has taken up residence in the nearby mango tree.  Everyone knows we can't consider him our pet if he remains nameless.

There's a soft breeze that ruffles the curtains, blowing a coating of dust over the cool tiled floors.  

We shuffle it around with the soles of our bared and blackened feet knowing that our footprints will soon be erased by a mop.  All that remains will be the scent of clean.  Tomorrow, that same scene will repeat.

The ever present sun is already glowing through the palm trees indicating that another day is born.  We wonder how hot it is going to be.

It seems an eternity since Tim and I first told our kids we were going to move there.  In reality, it has only been three years.  Our oldest daughter alone was excited.  (Three months after moving there, she told us that no place had ever felt this much like home.)  We patiently walked through the process with the other three.  They didn't know what to expect.  We didn't either.

If I knew then what I know now, I would have told them that they were going to meet friends that made it hard to say good-bye.  They were going to love a school where they would be one of many minorities, and somehow that dynamic would teach them to love and accept all different kinds of people.  We would worship in truth with others from different denominations, but together we would believe in the saving power of Jesus Christ.  We would serve people of a different culture who were poor in possessions but rich in spirit.  And they would teach us more than we could teach them about what's important in this world.

Since moving back to Ohio nine months ago, all of my children have asked to return to Nicaragua.  Perhaps not to live, but to feel again, the beautiful uniqueness of living outside of our ordinary.  Maybe, for a moment, to remember what it feels like to not be like everyone else and loved anyway.

I pray that they hold onto that desire.

I am feeling the weight that sits on their shoulders.  The world is paved by dark and dangerous things carefully disguised by common acceptance.  It is so hard to walk a different path, and only they can make that choice.  I pray that my children remember that they are not only capable of doing hard things, but they can do it with boldness, strength and courage.  I pray that they are given the wisdom to understand that losing their life in obedience to God is the secret to finding a lasting one, a better one.  And I pray that they have the vision to see that their questions, their fears, their losses, their moments of not fitting in or measuring up will be met with the beautiful truth that God is there in every vulnerable moment.  He is there catching their tears, comforting their hearts, and making them brave.  He is there loving them more perfectly, wholly, and truly than I ever could.

I pray they choose a love like that.  All of me prays they choose a life like that.