It's been a struggle to find words parallel to the feelings in my heart.
These days, I wake up a little earlier just to have an extra 10 minutes to sit still in my classroom until the boys arrive. I cherish every random question, every giggle, every boyish quirk I have with them, and grieve the day we will say goodbye.
These days, I call Mary Maude just to hear her chatter. I hold hands a little tighter with the Hope House kids. I make my market list a little longer just to savour the goodness of Haitian fruits for a few more weeks. I gather up barrettes and dinky cars to distribute as love gifts to those I will miss dearly.
These days, I purge bookshelves and find myself (hours later) buried in stacks of old letters and school planners, reminiscing and marvelling at each season of life in this place. I strategically pack suitcases with books and treasures gifted to me by past students and friends. I give my Christmas box and wall art to the girls next door. I wonder how much it would cost to ship my weathered velvet couch back to Wainfleet... I think I'm too sentimental for my own good.
These days, I dream about where I'll be a year from now. I get excited when Broc sends me Kijiji car ad links. I revel in the thought of being home to watch the leaves change this fall. I eagerly anticipate the moments that I get to soon spend with those who are held up by magnets on my fridge.
These days, I stand on the promise that it is in Him that we live and move and have our being. That even though my life may feel stretched and pulled and forever in a tension of where I belong, that it is Him who holds me together and keeps me rooted. These days, I covet your prayers as I spend one more month surrounded by rolling mountains and evening thunderstorms that take my breath away, Creole conversations and dear neighbours that keep my heart full, and a Father who quiets me with His love. May I live every day to it's fullest until it's time to say goodbye.