It has been three weeks since I held my youngest daughter. Three weeks since I nuzzled her and promised I would bring her home. Every day that passes creates an ache in my heart. I want her to come home and see the brilliant gold leaves that are raining down in my back yard. I want her to feel the cool Autumn breeze on her face and marvel at the birds visiting our feeders. I want her to sit in my lap and color while we do school. I want to hear her precious African accent drifting through my kitchen as I make her lunch. I miss her.
Lord, please let that call come this week. I know you already have her homecoming day set, but this longing in my heart is almost painful. That Nov. 10 appointment would be so, so good.