The Necessary Ache
I've lived in South Africa for 14 years.... FOURTEEN. In year two I realized time and distance would slowly erode relationships, no matter how strong they were before. And then there was "The Great Visa Fiasco." I was unable to travel for seven years, which created a gulf between the life I had before and life here in Cape Town. Our little family grew without visits to grandma's house or the rich traditions of extended family Chris and I grew up with. Toddler cousins can only FaceTime each other for so long before one of them pushes that red button.
My mom just spent seven glorious weeks with us in Cape Town. We said goodbye last night, and she is on a plane back to America now. Mom stayed in the apartment connected to our house, and Benjamin asked to go to "Gosa's house" every morning as soon as he woke up. She took Lifa to the grocery store and let him buy whatever he wanted for his own snack stash at her house. She fed Wyatt every meal, sang to Benjamin while she pushed him on the swing for hours, and played cards with Lifa after the little ones went to bed. She changed diapers, made up games, came with a suitcase full of treasures, and created a world of wonder wherever she went. She witnessed Wyatt learning to crawl and every kind of meltdown the Ladds had to offer. She went to occupational therapy with Benjamin and learned how to support him when he struggled. She became a safe space for him and a babysitter for us to go on dates. She wedged herself between car seats in the back of the van so she wouldn't miss a minute of her youngest grandsons and so Lifa could choose the music in the front seat. She showed up bright and early for the insanity of mornings in our house, and we cackled at Benjamin's breakfast demands and danced the delicate dance around his dysregulation together.
I watched Lifa develop a southern twang in her presence and saw all three children blossom in ways I'd never seen. New parts of their personalities bloomed in the glow of that magical, unconditional love God gave grandparents. We laughed more in the last seven weeks than we have laughed in the last seven years combined. It's that freely-lavished, always-been-there, un-erodable love... It fills gaps you didn't know were there. It finds what you didn't know was lost. It breathes life into sleeping parts of you.
I just walked over to "Gosa's house" and set Wyatt down in the wonderland she created for him there. My intention was to clean out the last bits left in the house - the diaper stash, leftover snacks, and some toys. Instead, Wyatt played with Legos, and I wept.
I ache with a deep ache today. And I do mean DEEP. I ache for my children - especially Benjamin, who found his perfect match in his Gosa. I ache for shared mealtimes, morning times, nap times, pool times, beach trips and laughing at the chaos around us. I ache for my mom. I ache for the way I thought life would look before I moved to South Africa, but I couldn't fathom not being here to become Lifa's mom.
This deep ache that keeps the tears fresh is a sacred ache. A necessary one. The depth of the trenches in my heart were formed by wildly flowing love in action. You see, we can only ache as deeply as we can love. I would never give up the ache because I wouldn't want to miss out on the love. The ache will dissipate eventually. The tears will stop, and life will resume its rhythm. But we will forever be marked by the power of Gosa's love.
The kind of love at "Gosa's house" is unconditional and ever-present. It makes you feel right at home and makes you more of yourself. It's a delicious taste of the always and forever love we were designed for. There's a heavenly home prepared for us where the river of living water, gushing love, flows forever without leaving a single trench or dry spot. There will be no more aching and no more separation.
The ache in my heart today is a necessary ache. I need it to remind me that I can only experience in part what I was made to experience in full. And the only way I can experience it in part is to love and be loved all the way, right where I am with whoever I am with - no matter what I thought life would look like, what I struggle with or what I'm hoping for in the future. Love happens here and it happens now, right where life is lived. Tonight I tearfully celebrate this necessary ache and pray that I can live a life that gushes with the kind of love that marks others.
Thank you, Gosa. You've left a permanent mark on us all. <----------------->
"God has a constantly flowing river whose sparkling streams bring joy and delight to his people. His river flows right through the city of God Most High, into his holy dwelling places." -Psalm 46:4 TPT
"And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. [4] ‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death ’ or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” - Revelation 21:3-4 NIV
"...Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known." - 1 Corinthians 13:12b NIV