Longing

I had been counting down the days. She would arrive home on the eighth of September, just one day short of three months since the day I had watched her walk beyond the gate where I could not come. Oh, how I had missed her. Missed her smile, missed our chats, missed making plans with her, missed her helpfulness...missed her sweet presence in our home.

Bekah had made a "Welcome Home, Kati!" banner and decorated it with birds. Appropriate, I thought, for our fledgling. There were freshly ironed sheets on her bed and ingredients for her favorite meals stocked the shelves.

At the airport, we checked the giant electronic board with all of the day's flights. Hers read "on time". We checked it again. "Landing." We stood staring at the board. "On Ground." How will she come out? At this gate? Through that door? Will she get her luggage first? Our eyes, all six of them, darted to and fro as we walked across the expanse of the too-large airport waiting area, longing to see her.

And there she was, and it was almost like a dream, but almost as if we'd never been apart.

Let's go home.

Is my longing to see His face as keen as my longing to see my daughter? Does He consume my thoughts? Do I want to live in His presence more than I want anything else?