Yesterday my two dear Venezuelan sister-in-laws and our dear niece returned to Venezuela.
Fanny had been with us since Mother's Day and Francys and Veronica since July 1.
It was a horrible good-bye.
I have given it 2nd place in light of the other good-byes that we have experienced in our almost nine years of marriage.
Back nearly 8 years ago Pancho and I experienced a similarly horrible good-bye.
Even worse, though.
We were moving from Venezuela to the States in October of 2002.
We had decided to move because of the adverse political and economic climate in Venezuela.
His entire family, papa, mama, 2 sisters and niece, drove us to Caracas with our 6 rubber maid tubs and 3 suitcases filled to the top with those wedding gifts we could transport.
We got checked in and handed over our luggage.
We then made our way to the area where we would have to say good-bye to Pancho's family.
It was absolutely gut-wrenching.
Veronica was only 3 and did not understand what was happening.
She had brought her suitcase along on the 10-hour drive to Caracas and when we unloaded our luggage from the SUV, she proceeded to hand us her Winnie the Pooh suitcase.
We told her she should keep her suitcase in the SUV.
She was so confused.
So, after we checked in, we found a little corner where we could all be together without many distractions so we could pray as an extended family.
Everyone bowed their heads.
But no words were uttered.
Tears began (or continued, some had been falling since we woke up early that morning) to fall freely from each person's eyes.
Pancho, Pancho's dad, cried the hardest of them all.
He and my dad are the most tender men I have ever met on this earth.
Finally Emelys, Pancho's mom, began to pray aloud.
She was the only one among us who could muster up a voice.
Those days are long-gone and yet the memory of that painful good-bye came flooding into my mind yesterday as we stood in a similar position at CWA.
Here we all were (our family of four, Pancho's sisters and our niece and my dad) attempting to say good-bye.
For how long?
We don't know.
When you have family that lives as far away as Venezuela you simply never know when you will see them again.
I definitely think that contributes to making the good-bye so heart-wrenching.
The time came for them to pass through security.
We began to give our parting hugs.
Parting hugs are the worst.
Shaking shoulders.
Tears flowing endlessly.
You say things that you feel in your heart-of-hearts that you would not normally say because they make you so vulnerable.
Things like my dad said to Francys and Fanny...
"I think of you both as my own daughters. Just like Krissy."
Poor Katrina doesn't have many inhibitions yet.
She sobbed loud.
And she sobbed hard.
This was definitely her worst good-bye to date (she was not even born when Pancho and I moved to the States).
She continued to cry as Grandpa held her while I helped holler things to the security people as they went through security (Spanish-English language barrier -- CWA does not have a lot of bilingual security officers).
She cried all the way home.
It is a 20+ minute drive.
The poor thing.
Later in the afternoon I heard her crying upstairs in her room.
She was reminded of the times she and Veronica would go up there to play for hours on end.
Today, after lunch, she found one of "Fanny's hairs" on the living room floor and got all teared up.
The house is sumamente quiet.
We absolutely loved having a van-full.
We adored having to use paper plates and plastic cups at meal times in order to not be running the dishwasher constantly.
We enjoyed the late-night talks and laughs and bowls of ice cream and scrabble games.
We had such a wonderful time and we are so thankful to the Lord for His provision of this time together.
You know, Pancho and his sisters have never been together, just the three of them, apart from their parents.
We will cherish the memories that the Lord has blessed us with from this time together.
Las amamos mas que nunca, Francys, Fanny y Veroniquita!
Back nearly 8 years ago Pancho and I experienced a similarly horrible good-bye.
Even worse, though.
We were moving from Venezuela to the States in October of 2002.
We had decided to move because of the adverse political and economic climate in Venezuela.
His entire family, papa, mama, 2 sisters and niece, drove us to Caracas with our 6 rubber maid tubs and 3 suitcases filled to the top with those wedding gifts we could transport.
We got checked in and handed over our luggage.
We then made our way to the area where we would have to say good-bye to Pancho's family.
It was absolutely gut-wrenching.
Veronica was only 3 and did not understand what was happening.
She had brought her suitcase along on the 10-hour drive to Caracas and when we unloaded our luggage from the SUV, she proceeded to hand us her Winnie the Pooh suitcase.
We told her she should keep her suitcase in the SUV.
She was so confused.
So, after we checked in, we found a little corner where we could all be together without many distractions so we could pray as an extended family.
Everyone bowed their heads.
But no words were uttered.
Tears began (or continued, some had been falling since we woke up early that morning) to fall freely from each person's eyes.
Pancho, Pancho's dad, cried the hardest of them all.
He and my dad are the most tender men I have ever met on this earth.
Finally Emelys, Pancho's mom, began to pray aloud.
She was the only one among us who could muster up a voice.
Those days are long-gone and yet the memory of that painful good-bye came flooding into my mind yesterday as we stood in a similar position at CWA.
Here we all were (our family of four, Pancho's sisters and our niece and my dad) attempting to say good-bye.
For how long?
We don't know.
When you have family that lives as far away as Venezuela you simply never know when you will see them again.
I definitely think that contributes to making the good-bye so heart-wrenching.
The time came for them to pass through security.
We began to give our parting hugs.
Parting hugs are the worst.
Shaking shoulders.
Tears flowing endlessly.
You say things that you feel in your heart-of-hearts that you would not normally say because they make you so vulnerable.
Things like my dad said to Francys and Fanny...
"I think of you both as my own daughters. Just like Krissy."
Poor Katrina doesn't have many inhibitions yet.
She sobbed loud.
And she sobbed hard.
This was definitely her worst good-bye to date (she was not even born when Pancho and I moved to the States).
She continued to cry as Grandpa held her while I helped holler things to the security people as they went through security (Spanish-English language barrier -- CWA does not have a lot of bilingual security officers).
She cried all the way home.
It is a 20+ minute drive.
The poor thing.
Later in the afternoon I heard her crying upstairs in her room.
She was reminded of the times she and Veronica would go up there to play for hours on end.
Today, after lunch, she found one of "Fanny's hairs" on the living room floor and got all teared up.
The house is sumamente quiet.
We absolutely loved having a van-full.
We adored having to use paper plates and plastic cups at meal times in order to not be running the dishwasher constantly.
We enjoyed the late-night talks and laughs and bowls of ice cream and scrabble games.
We had such a wonderful time and we are so thankful to the Lord for His provision of this time together.
You know, Pancho and his sisters have never been together, just the three of them, apart from their parents.
We will cherish the memories that the Lord has blessed us with from this time together.
Las amamos mas que nunca, Francys, Fanny y Veroniquita!
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