The Curious Cocktail of Pain and Peace

Have you ever looked forward to an event with both excitement and dread? I had that experience recently as I dropped the boys off at Dakar Academy to begin their junior year – the first boarding school experience for them. We knew it was coming, of course. We have been talking about it for a year. Somehow as the time drew close, I was able to distract myself with the busyness of packing and saying goodbye to our friends and family and traveling back from the US.

Even when we got to Conakry and the trip was only days away, we were so overwhelmed with adjusting to being back and trying to get all of the shopping done, that I was able to push it out of my mind. But then the day came and we found ourselves gathered in our guesthouse in a circle, praying over the kids as they left.

That was Hannah’s time to say goodbye to the boys and the tears started. We took off for the airport and again gathered with the other parents in a circle to pray for the whole group. I could feel the pain welling up as I watch Jim say goodbye to the boys, and I found myself relieved that I could put it off for a few days. Two other moms and I accompanied 9 kids as we headed out for Dakar. As we walked up the ramp and into the airport, it felt a little like I was watching myself from above. It was really time for them to go.

We got through customs and sat down with the kids as they chatted and played games and munched on snacks. I pushed away the thoughts of the inevitable that was coming. The flight went smoothly and the arrival was great. All of the trunks arrived and as we got to the parking lot, the two dorm dads from the school arrived to pick us up. The next hours were busy – dropping off kids at dorms and carrying in luggage and unpacking. We found their beds made and a Mountain Dew and some candy sitting beside a welcome note on each bed.

We only had a short time until supper, so we unpacked what we could and I took off to find some supper while the boys ate with their dorm. I returned later that evening. The boys had been busy and most of the unpacking was done. I dropped off medicine with the dorm mom and said goodnight to the boys. I was still safe – I had a few more days to go and there was a lot to do in the mean time.

When I returned to the guesthouse, I found one of the moms I was traveling with there – crying. The adjustment for her first timer was difficult. We cried together. We had both grown up in boarding school and knew what a great opportunity it could be – but the pain was still aching and real. The next day I attended a seminar on how to parent from afar. My tears were flowing as they shared with us that it is okay and even recommended to grieve and mourn for the family situation that you are losing. Then I had lunch with the boys’ dorm parents.

We were able to ask questions and listen to their traditions regarding such things as birthdays. I was crying at the drop of a hat by this time – most of the time I could hold it together, but the pain and loss threatened to overwhelm me sometimes. When the boys would give me a hug, I would think, how can I live without those hugs? When I talked with the dorm parents about medicine, I thought, who will take care of them when they are sick? When we talked about birthdays, I thought, we won’t be here to celebrate with them and bake them a cake.

The next day, there was an open house and I was able to meet their teachers. Would they do okay? I could already pick which teachers and classes would be their favorites. Then we were down to one day. I hung out with the boys in the afternoon and had a precious time with them, watching them laugh and goof off with a friend. It was a gift, but I kept thinking – I have got to get out of here. I cannot take the upcoming goodbye. It felt like a freight training coming down the track and I wanted off. That evening, the other 2 moms and I took all of the kids from Guinea out for supper and ice cream. We had so much fun.

After we got back, I left the boys hanging out with friends. The walk back to the guesthouse seemed long. It is coming – I thought. I can’t get away from it. The whole experience reminded me a little of childbirth. In the months and days leading up to giving birth, there is a great excitement but also a bit of dread about the pain of labor. It is inevitable, and in the end there is joy, but the road through is not always easy.

Sunday morning proved to be a beautiful, sunny day – but I could sense the clouds coming. As we sat in church together, Kaleb leaned over and said, I am going to miss you guys so much. I could not have said it better myself. After church, I headed back to the dorm to say goodbye. Uncle Jim and Aunt Shari, the boys’ dorm parents, invited me to stay for lunch, but I didn’t trust myself not to cry in my lasagna so I declined. I hugged and hugged those two and headed out. I cried the whole way back to the guesthouse. Get me out of here, I thought. I can’t take it anymore.

So, yes, the pain was intense and overwhelming at times. However, in the midst of it, there was a strange sense of peace and joy. It truly was a peace that surpassed all understanding. I could feel the hands of Gods people holding us up in prayer. And I saw snapshots of the great things about the experience. In my mind, I can see Uncle Jim and Aunt Shari as they waited on the boys to get home from school – to ask about how their day was.

I saw the pain that they experienced in leaving some of their kids in the US as they returned to Africa to minister to ours. I saw Aunt Judy (one of the dorm parents who is my sister from boarding school days) hugging on my boys and checking on them. I saw my boys checking on the other kids from Guinea, especially the new ones, to see how they were doing. And I saw the favor returned.

I listened as Uncle Evan, who, with his wife Jewel, is in charge of the boarding program and spiritual life, as he shared comments about the boys that he had heard from the staff – about how sharp the boys were. He and Jewel said several times how well they thought the boys were going to do there. I can picture Ben and Kaleb laughing with their friends. I can see them standing at the movie night, surrounded by girls, as they talked and laughed. And I have treasured all of these things in my heart.

So, yes it was and continues to be hard as we adjust to life as a family of three. The house is very quiet these days. And cooking for three is not an easy task. We miss the boys intensely. At the same time, we are thrilled that they are so happy there and that they are adjusting well. We are overwhelmed by the quality of people that God placed at Dakar Academy who can pour into the boys’ lives. So, in the end, there is peace and joy beyond compare, even in the cocktail of pain. We are so blessed.