Who am I really crying for anyway?

One day, I opened up my Facebook feed and right there was this picture:

IF we'd stayed in Niger, our oldest daughter would be graduating from high school with this amazing group of kids representing at least seven different countries... June 2015.

But we didn’t stay. God’s path for our family led a very different direction, including two seemingly never-ending years of transition between our African home and our soon-to-be French Canadian future. I never, in a million years (and yes, that’s hyperbole) pictured this. More truthfully? In the near 15 years we delighted in our West African lives and ministry I could have only just barely imagined this happening, until it actually did.

As I first looked at that picture, my eyes filled with tears.

I thought they were all tears for my daughter. For the friends she's left behind. For the amazing people she'll probably never see again. Wondering when would be her next opportunity to praise God in four different languages, all in the same church service. Because she was going back into a world where teens were expected to act like irresponsible, selfish or pampered kids instead of regularly given the opportunity to rise to the occasion while serving and ministering as equals alongside adults. For the amazingness of growing up as part of an expatriate, multicultural community where so many were sacrificing so many to serve Jesus and share His offer of life with others.

And that’s about when I realized that I was actually disguising truth from myself....

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