Reunited, and It Feels So Good

Could it really be two years ago, when the Trucker and I made a cross country trip to bring him home?

At the beginning, the time seemed never ending.  Three months, a quick week home, then six months.  Then one more month.

Now the long awaited time had indeed come.  They had driven cross country, gotten settled in a motel room.  The class was to be meeting til late afternoon.  Then there would be time to go out for a quick supper with him before the evening commissioning service.

What would their son be like after the term?  More independent, certainly.  How would the time away have changed his thinking?  Things would never be the same as before, but would he return home with them to live, or move on from here?  He was still so young.

They drove to town, parked across the street from the church.  And waited, debating entering or waiting outside.  Everything in them pulled to go inside.  But they didn't know where the class was meeting, and couldn't interrupt.  The text came; class was delayed, would run later.  Sigh.

At long last, the church doors opened.  A team member came out.  Then another.  One by one, they filed out and clustered on the sidewalk, smiling.  Where was their son?

They stepped out of the truck, waiting.  Then he appeared in the doorway, eyes scanning the street.  Taller he was, and broader.  Yet his face had a lean, almost dark, look.  Shadows in his eyes that had not been there before.  

She slipped into the street, then, and ran, her eyes on his face.  Tears came, blinding her sight.  The sense of hearing took over.  She heard his boots, those cowboy boots they had dropped off in July, pounding the sidewalk.

And then she was in his arms, weeping, her head pressed into his chest, glasses digging into her face.  His muscular arms held her in a desperate grip, his shaggy head bowed over hers.  The father's arms circled them both, a quiet, secure comfort.  Unseen, the Father was there surrounding all with his soothing, healing presence.

She could hear his heart thudding under her ear.  His chest heaved. Groans jerked from his throat.  Was it laughter?  Or sobs? Maybe both.  Drops of moisture fell on her head, soaking her hair.  A rain of love, washing away the pain and loss, the separation of the months.  His team on the sidewalk cheered, and then fell silent in respect.  Wiping their own tears.

Their reunions would come later.  For now, they cherished his.  The lighthearted banter, joking over his impatience to see his parents, the knowing they were near but he was not yet released, faded away.  All realized anew the depth of love, the pain of separation.

Because phone calls, even video chats, are never completely honest.  Often, there was so much concern for the other as to deny their own longings, and the true struggles never found voice. 

Finally, to see with one's own eyes the other, was intense relief.  Words and sharing would come over time.  For now, the baptism of tears was enough.