The Empty Chair

I was crying in the French cafe today. I've been crying a lot from all the stress of uncertainties, the grief of missing Mary Evelyn, facing my own weaknesses and sheer exhaustion. This afternoon I was crying because there was an empty chair at our little table and I wished Mary Evelyn was sitting in it. I ached with missing her sweet self.

Mark persuaded me to tell him why I was crying and although I felt foolish, I told him the truth. He said that we have a choice. We can go through the rest of our lives with that empty chair, with nothing but our grief and memories, or we can fill up that chair and build our lives again. It's hard to let go of the familiar pain, of this time of mourning, because it is a way of keeping Mary Evelyn closer in a way by keeping her chair empty at our table.

There are three children who also have empty chairs. They are at their table with no mommy or daddy and we could invite them to come sit with us. We can try to help them deal with their losses and and bring them love and joy. We can give them a home in place of their orphanage.

Tomorrow we travel four hours south of Kiev to meet three  new children. The oldest girl is 10, the boy is 9 and the littlest girl just turned 6. Everyone has said they are very sweet, loving and happy. We are hoping to form a bond with them and bring them home. We plan to stay in their village for the next few days along with our sweet translator. We'll play with the kids each day and take the time to get to know them.

We hope to keep our hearts open and also hope there is no fainting this time!

We hope to fill our chairs and and honor Mary Evelyn's request to be happy and not sad, but still expect that of course the grieving will continue and that tomorrow will bring fresh crying. I hope and pray that God will give me the grace to see beyond the grief and loss I feel, which is accentuated by opening up to new children, and to see the need of these little ones and the joy that they will bring all of us.