I'm riding in a car with a friend, her sister and her niece, and the whole time the niece (affectionately nicknamed "Porkchop") is crying--that wet, sloppy sobbing that calms to a few snorts, and then she remembers what she was doing and picks up again. Nothing is wrong--she just doesn't want to be in the car seat one whole row behind her mama.
Well, I'm in the know, and it's all good: we're heading downtown to meet her other aunt for lunch, and Porkchop is going to be so happy, so well-loved-on and well-fed. But Porkchop doesn't have the capacity to grasp that at 9 months. So, she keeps on with the sloshy sobbing and we get to giggle and coo at her to try and calm her down.
Even in that moment, I knew this was the perfect picture of where I'm at. During this waiting time before Peru, I catch myself sniffling and whining, wishing I was "there yet". Yes, I do have more perspective than Porkchop because I've learned about the love of my heavenly Father, and I have the adult faculties to understand the concepts of preparation and journeying. But, this picture works for me because, on a grander scale, God knows where I'm going and why, and He is ultimately responsible to get me there in one piece...and it's really His show once I get there. God is growing in me the faith in Him that I'm convinced Porkchop should have in her mother. And I can't wait 'til I get "there".
