The nightly routine consists of Tara putting Aislinn to sleep. Finn and I goofing off for an extended period of time only to realize that time has moved more quick than first anticipated. Then we scurry to finish our routine so that Tara does not outright see us lagging behind.
Last night Finnegan and I were watching a video about South Africa and we were talking about moving only to have him ask a simple question.
Why can we not keep this house forever?
We both started crying at that point. Finn only knows this apartment we are in now. He only knows the Cedarville campus. How he can ride his bike everywhere. How there is a place across the street that has an unlimited supply of donuts. How he can go to the cafeteria and get free ice cream on demand (which I am not reluctant to indulge in with him). How there are gaggles of college girls to give him the attention that he by no means needs.
Tara and I have been thinking about this transition lately. Thinking how hard it would be for Finnegan. In turn how difficult it will be for us. Praying that it will go easy on him. But I cry for Finn a lot. He has a tender spirit and is maybe the most empathetic person I have ever met.
Tara seemed delayed in coming to give Finn a kiss goodnight but I did not think much of it. Only to find out that she was tearing up in the bedroom thinking about the fact that we are still pressing on here in Cedarville. That we are not yet at home in Cape Town.
Team McComas was all awash in ourselves last night. It all seemed tragic last night. And it seems humorous this morning because Finnegan will change his tune in a moment. He will tell me, like he has done in the past, that he wants to tell people about Jesus in South Africa. Tara will find something about our apartment that she loves and will miss. I will be in the middle somewhere as always, torn. And Aislinn will remain oblivious. Which is God’s blessing to babies.