This post was first written in 2017 to mark the day of my son’s homecoming. Today it has become a sort of memorial of God’s gracious promises and wondrous works in us.
December 6. Exactly a week from now, at about this hour, we will all be home together. For the first time ever, Abhi will have a home of his own. For the first time ever, Venky and I will have a tiny shoot sprout up before our eyes each morning. And for the first time ever, two pre-existing worlds are about to collide. Well, maybe not the first time ever. But our world is going to turn poles and so is his. I’m a bit of a late morning waker. Abhi wakes up on the dot every morning at 7. That means I would need to be up earlier than him. He needs to be picked up from time to time, and I’m still recovering from an injured spine. He’s onto a tight schedule while Mommy and Daddy just sway through the day. Our quiet space is about to be interrupted by noise, action and drama. It’s easy to sit here, a week early, and just type my mind out, because who knows, I may have to say goodbye to Facebook and all the other things out there that is caffeine for my mind.
Amidst all these seemingly polar unknowns, my iTunes is humming a song into my restless soul. It is Abhi’s favourite and has quickly become V&I’s hot picks too – My Lighthouse by Rend Collective. It’s a song about going home through rough waters. A song about learning to swim towards the shore where the lighthouse rests, unmoved. Lighting up the waves. Calming our fears. There will be many days when we have more questions than answers, more sick visits than soft pillows to rest on, more struggles than stasis. But knowing that there is a Lighthouse at the end will remind us we are not home yet, that we need to keep swimming. Do the next thing. Trust His promises. And just enjoy the moment -laugh, be silly, sing, and cry. It reminds us that we need to make the most of even difficult times. As Spurgoen once said, “[I must] learn to kiss the waves that throw me against my Rock of Ages”.
Pray for our fledgling family, that we will hold our anchor even when our sails let us down.