That noise is often arguing, often yelling up and down the stairs at someone across the house, sometimes the sound of someone in trouble, and so very often laughter. Tons of laughter.
Our kids are happy kids. Good kids. Fun kids. Enthusiastic kids. So much has happened over the past 21 months. We have watched the kids learn English, learn about The United States, learn about me, learn about Josh, learn in school, learn more about God, learn, and learn, and learn, and learn. We have fallen in love with them and them with us. We have watched them get comfortable in their new lives and in their new family and in their new home.
Every once in a while I catch a glimpse of the hurt in their hearts. Tears shed. Words written. Feelings allowed to escape in the form of words. That look upon a little face. Aching for the friends left behind. Broken for the family so far away. Crushed for the ones lost to the grave.
It hurts to see their tears. It's difficult to find words to ease their pain. I tell them that I am happy to see these windows because it tells me that they have not forgotten those precious people that mean so much to them. I tell them that I am happy that they trust me enough to see it. I am thankful that they were loved so much, long before we ever met.
And then as quickly as it appeared, the window closes. The laughter resumes and life continues.
Obviously this is very personal. I only share the generalities because the specifics are private. I thank you for respecting that. And I thank you for wanting to learn more about this journey. A marathon of epic proportions. The path is beautiful, fun, blessed, and happy but we didn't get here easily. I tend to forget that this is a decades long journey.