Missing Home

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We've just got back from an evening at Aida's; me and all the Fau family. It's late and I'm tired but I'm also upset. My heart aches. What does it ache for? Home, family, friends. But most of all, a chance to see my dear old Mum. Oh how I miss her voice, her smile, her laugh, her warm affectionate hugs. I miss being able to have a laugh with her and bicker about stupid things. I miss teasing her and making us both laugh so much that tears run down our faces. I miss sharing with her everything that's on my heart, no matter how stupid or small.

After nearly a whole month of not talking to any of my family (our internet has been out-of-order since the house move which means no skype) I finally got the chance to talk to my Mum on Aida's landline which gets free calls back to the UK. Unfortunately, when I phoned, she didn't have much time to talk because she had to go to work. Only being able to talk to her for a short while was also very hard and I was reminded of how far I am from her and all my family. Over the New Year my Auntie and my Mum's older sister came to stay after nearly twenty years of cutting herself off from our family. It would seem that God has been answering my prayers of reuniting my family but I was upset too that I hadn't been there to share that time with them.

My tears also come from the painful and difficult situation that I find myself in, living with a family who are not my family and as much as they may love me, I often feel unseen, insignificant and unappreciated - emotions which I know Satan tries to stir in me sometimes because it's so far from the truth but all the same, it's hard when I feel like that. I feel like the family are blind to my difficulties what with all the things that they have going on. Earlier in the evening when I'd been holding back all my emotions, my uncharacteristic quietness was put down to tiredness but anyone who knows me well would have known there was something up. I tried to find comfort in Aida's maternal form, resting my head on her shoulder as I would have done with my own Mum. When it came to saying goodbye and Aida gave me a hug, I couldn't contain my emotions any longer. I felt like a bit of an idiot but sometimes it's better to cry than hold it all in.

Driving back in the car, I turned my face to the window and let the tears roll silently down my cheeks. When no one asked if I was OK I wondered if they'd even noticed and if they had, then perhaps they just didn't care. It's during moments like that that I realize the only person who sees me is God. He sees every tear I cry. I'd see this vision of Jesus bowing his head to kiss me on my brow or taking my face in his hands and looking at me with love and pride.

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