I'm currently going through an exercise in patience.
Two days after Thanksgiving our car broke down. The diagnosis: a new transmission. It's been 16 days and we still have no car.
6 days ago, my family was supposed to drive to Alabama to watch me cross my 6th marathon finish line.
5 days ago, we were supposed to drive to Ohio to visit my best friend and her beautiful family.
3 days ago, I was supposed to see White Christmas, with my best friend in tow, on the big screen. Something that I was ridiculously and completely excited about.
Yesterday, we were planning on heading to my inlaws to decorate Christmas cookies and spend time with people we love.
Instead, we're here. Waiting.
(at this point I could/should write a post about Advent and how God is using this situation to teach me about patiently waiting for the Savior but right now my heart just isn't in it #truth)
My poor children are confused. We've stopped telling them anything and vaguely mention that we're going on a "long trip" at some point. Everyday, I have to send "we're still here" update texts to anxious grandparents.
I've been angry. I've been sad. I've been in denial. Right now I'm somewhere between all three. As I told my Dad, through clenched teeth and tears, I just want to go home.
I'm trying hard to trust the process. To believe that we're still here for a reason. I'm trying to listen to Christmas music and sing along with a cheerful heart. To watch A Charlie Brown Christmas with my kids and laugh when Lucy threatens to slug Snoopy.
Ultimately, I will get home for Christmas, even if I have to hitchhike up the Eastern seaboard, because no one should have to celebrate Jesus' birthday without their family.