Homesick

I am the baby in my family: the youngest of three siblings and the second youngest of fourteen maternal cousins, whom I spent nearly every holiday and family event with as a small child.  I have always been one of the youngest people in any group I've been involved in: my family, my graduating class, every job I've ever held, not to mention the age gap between my husband and I (and subsequently his siblings).  I am the baby.  It's my lot in life.  I've accepted the benefits of being the baby (anyone who is a 'baby' or is the jealous older sibling of one should understand that these are numerous), but I've always taken pride in defying the tradition of hanging on to the parental units and reaping the benefits of being cared for as only the baby in the family can be.  On the contrary, I feel like I identified more with my older siblings and was eager to get a job (at the age of 14) to make my own money...to buy pants that weren't tapered or two inches too short (it wasn't Mom's fault that I was growing like a weed).  Having paid my own way to go on an exchange trip to Germany for a month when I was 16, I pretty much felt like I was ready to take over the world.  So, you can understand that the next two years were excruciating, waiting for the opportunity to go to college and subsequently make my own way. 

I very vividly remember dropping my brother off at college; he was the first one out of the nest and it was an emotional event for all of us.  There was lots of crying...all the way home from Rolla.  When Emily went to college, we went on a pilgrimage to Chicago to help her integrate into life at U of C.  By the time my parents were ready to empty their nest, they followed me the two-hour drive to Springfield, hauled my boxes to my dorm room...we might have eaten lunch, but by that time, they were old pro's at the whole getting children out of the house thing and it was pretty much just 'drive home if you want to see us'.  No big deal. 

It really wasn't.  I drove home pretty frequently for the weekends and making it for the holidays was a given.  Even when I met John and we got engaged, we visited his family for Christmas but were always able to make it to Mountain Home for Thanksgiving and New Years. 

Homesickness through this all was never really an issue; I had moved out of the house, but was still just a few hours away from almost my entire family.  I was independent, but still connected.  Obviously, the dynamic changed when we moved to Washington, but through it all, my family and I have made a concerted effort to see each other several times a year and to make sure the girls get plenty of Skype time.  I've missed my family and wished they could be with us, but never in my life have I really experienced what I would express as genuine pangs of homesickness.

Until now.

I haven't been home since last Christmas.  I've seen my family: my Mom and Dad and brother and sister, but I have much more family...FAMILY that I want to hug and show my children off to...and I'm not just limiting this to my biological family but the larger group of individuals I consider to be my God-gifted family too.

It has been so heavy on my heart--the need to see and hug and kiss these treasured people--to share a meal or a game of cards or a conversation that simply can't be had over the phone.  My heart aches to be home and I know that God can make it happen...I just don't know how yet.  And that's what kills me.  I am anxious to know how He will be at work.  To see how He will bring me through this heartache.  Pray with me, will you?  For the first time ever, this baby NEEDS her family and they are so far away.