It wasn’t too long ago that they were both so little.  One pink, one blue.  She, spunky and stubborn.  He, quiet and calm.  They grew together.  She was protective of him, her little brother.  They were a pair, the two of them. 

I can still see them, her in her Power Puff Girls nightgown, him with his Darth Vader light saber.  I can still see their silly hairdos on crazy hair day and their cowboy hats at the rodeo.  I can still see her as Minnie, him as Mickey.  Her as a cheerleader, him as a football.  They were a duo, the two of them.

As they grew older, they grew to be the best of friends.  They laugh and joke with each other.  The confide in each other.  They go to each other for help.  This is a mother’s greatest joy, to see her children love one another.  They have such a special relationship, the two of them.

The two of them. 

Close in heart, yet far apart.  No one told me my heart could be stretched like this.  Her six hours away, him 9 in the opposite direction.  15 hours separate them, and I feel every minute of it.  Today, the two of them will start school.  She, a junior, he a freshman.  In college.

The two of them.  In college.  How?  They should still be asking for cheerios and sippy cups.  They should still be resting their heads on my shoulder, yet somehow, they are hours apart, making their own ways in the world and my heart is stretched thin between the two of them.

But no matter how grown they get, I will always see the little girl and boy holding hands and navigating childhood together, the two of them.

The last several weeks haven’t gone as we had planned. If we had had it our way, we would have left our last home, done our traveling, and moved right into our new home.

As planned.

But, that’s not the way it has gone down. At all. It’s been one delay after another, it seems. And here we are, seven weeks after arriving in our new city, still homeless.

Definitely not as planned.

The first few weeks were fine because we had a place all lined up for us to stay. After that, though, things began to get a little hairy. We couldn’t find another place to stay. Nothing. We couldn’t find anything. How is that possible? I don’t know, but it’s what we were up against.

Luckily for us, we have very gracious family and friends who have welcomed us into their homes and have allowed us to stay with them while we wait. And that’s no small favor. There are a lot of us and we have a lot of stuff. We are a disruption to their lives, to say the least.

As I’ve been frustrated and grumbling about the situation and upset that things just aren’t working out, I’ve tried to remind myself along the way that God has taken care of us throughout this whole ordeal. I’ve tried to remember to be thankful and grateful and not complain. I’ve probably failed more than I’ve succeeded, but I’ve tried.

This morning, I read a devotional that really helped put things into perspective for me. It isn’t about life here on earth. It’s about what’s to come. What seems like major turmoil now is really no big deal at all. And not only that, but God has not let us suffer too much through it all. He has made sure we have been taken care of. We’ve never spent a night on the street or gone hungry. We are fine, even if we may be uncomfortable for a moment or two.

My point is, I have to remember to keep my eyes on eternal things and not earthly things. So I’m not in my house yet. So what! It doesn’t matter. So I can’t work because my license hasn’t come in yet. So what! It will come in time.

For now, I’ll keep living my nomadic lifestyle until it’s time to move into my own home. And I’ll keep being thankful for my family and friends who love us enough to take us in. And I’ll keep being thankful for my God to never forgets about me.

Green eyes looking back at me, rich with a story I didn’t even know I needed to tell. Glistening from the tears you shed. You speak pain. But what pain? What is the pain? Where does it come from? What is it about? I feel it, but I’m not sure what it is. I don’t know how to express it. I don’t know where the hurt lies or where it comes from.

But the eyes know. You know.

You stare back at me, willing me to understand. You cry out from behind your glassiness. You know the emptiness I feel. You feel it, too. If only you could speak, you could tell them what you know. But you can’t.

You can’t, so the pain just gets tucked away. Stuck. Stuck deep inside somewhere that even I can’t find it at times. It troubles me. It kicks and screams at times. It boils inside me. The pain. It knows it can’t live in there, hidden away forever. Yet, still it doesn’t come to the surface.

It stays buried to some degree. It stays so that it’s always a part of me. It stays behind those green eyes. And even though you know, you don’t betray what you know. You keep the secret. Even from me, the keeper of the eyes.

How can that be? How can I be the home for the eyes and the pain but still not understand it? How can I still not know? How can I still not be able to explain it?

I want to. I so badly want to tell them what hurts. I want to share it with them. I want to bring it all out into the light. To expose it. If I could, maybe the pain wouldn’t be so great. Maybe it would release its hold on me. Maybe the pain that pierces through my green eyes would turn into something else.

Maybe.

Maybe I’ll never know. Maybe I’m not meant to understand. This pain. What does it want from me? Green eyes, can’t you tell me what you know? Can’t you help me understand?

Green eyes.

You’re not always here, bright and staring back at me. It’s the green that knows. Not the brown, nor the hazel. It’s the green. You’re the one that knows the pain. You’re the one that keeps the secret. I know you. When I see you, I know you see me, too. You let the sadness leak out. The others hold it in. The hazel and the brown. But you, green, you’re the brave one. You let the sadness be seen.

Green eyes. I see you looking back at me, wanting to tell your story, wanting to share your secret. Bring it to the light, green. Don’t hide anymore. Be free. Share with me what you know so I can be free, too.

Set us free, green eyes.