the end has come

The night should be over.

I should have been in bed hours ago.

I shouldn't be writing this right now.

I'm getting up in 4 hours to say goodbye to two of my children. And yet, it's like I can't go to bed. I sort of figure... that at this hour, if I sleep for more than 4, I'm going to get further into a rem cycle and it's going to be harder for me to wake up. It might however, be hard for me to fall asleep... as I've been sick lately and Nyquil makes the night so peaceful :) But I actually want to wake up to see the boys off in the morning.

I don't know how to say goodbye. I'm 24 years old and I'm about to experience an "empty nest" as I learn to adjust how to live without children that weren't mine in the first place. My face is stained with tears from this morning that I've been too busy to wash off. The house is a mess, there's a cake sitting out on the counter uncovered and the ant/fly problem in this house will automatically deem the ginormous platter of chocolaty sugar inedible by morning. It's okay though - we wouldn't have eaten it anyway. Just like the cake I made the other day... when I made two cakes instead of one. What was I thinking? And why do we use cake to celebrate? Fireworks are so much better. And how many people actually like cake? If it doesn't come with ice cream, why bother? And the ice cream just makes it soggy. But this is not about cake.

Tonight I went up to the boys room to say goodnight and I found myself climbing on the top bunk with 6 of the boys to read a "Madagascar" story book that at least three of the pages were ripped out of. The story made almost no sense, and it was part of a little kids mini series, so it didn't even end: the story just kind of.... stopped. It'd be like the story of the three little pigs, and the book ended on "He huffed and he puffed and he blew the." House down? What? No. The End. But the boys and I were nestled all in as I read the book, and I loved every second of it. Come Monday night, I won't get to read with them anymore. I won't get to climb onto the top bunk and be surrounded by six of the boys as I read a book that doesn't make sense. I don't know how to handle that.

I think about home and I am so excited to get there. I'm excited to sleep in my own bed. I'm excited to throw/give a ton of my stuff away (living out of a carry-on size piece of luggage has been lovely, and though I wish I had thought about the color selection a little more [almost all black....] ... simplicity is lovely.) I'm excited for Christmas at home. For freedom to do what I want when I want. Bathroom stops are no longer scheduled. Woah.

We are all ready to go home: but that doesn't mean it's easy. Aslan, it makes me think of Aslan. Is He safe? No, but He's good. Is it easy? No, but it's good.

Lord, give us the strength to get through these next few days. Help us persevere. Help us be strong examples for these little children we love so much, in our times of weakness see us through. Thank you for what you have given us. Thank you for Choir 35.