I wish they could all know how incredibly soft and fluffy a Zambian newborn's curls are. I wish they could comprehend the tininess that is an 8 month old baby who is still the size of a newborn. I wish they could hear the sweetest accents in the world singing "Jesus Loves Me" in their own special way. I wish they could appreciate just how big a deal it is that Joel is now doing the motions to every song we sing in language class. I wish they could feel my joy in seeing the babies who've gone back home still wrap their arms around me on a visit like they haven't forgotten. I wish they could stand beside me when we're preparing one of our precious ones for burial, joining us in remembering a life that mattered so much.
And for a few perfect weeks, I got that. It was music to my ears hearing our little ones yelling, "Sassy! Chief!", the same names my niece and nephews call them back home. I loved watching my dad eat tomatoes by the plateful, fresh from the garden, like he was in heaven. I got teary listening to my mom ooh and aah over the precious lives I, too, ooh and aah over daily.
I'm adjusting back to life without them, slowly but surely. For now, I'm just reminding myself constantly how very blessed I am to have parents willing to come and enter into my life here, allowing parts of my two worlds to collide at least for a little while.
An update on the babies tomorrow...I know that's what you're really after!