It’s no secret that our family’s move to Spain has not been a speedy process. There have been years and years of delays and long periods when the way forward did not seem clear at all. Now that we are finally here in Barcelona as residents, I have been mediating on the meaning of waiting through the perspective of all we have faced over the years to get here.

There’s a common platitude at times such as this. As platitudes are, it’s meant for comfort, for normalizing something that feels so abnormal. It’s meant to ease the pain of the reality we are facing. And I don’t want to shame anyone for it, many of you have said it this week, many have said, “Death is just a part of life.”

One morning, while leading our homeschool co-op pre-school devotionals, I noticed that our verse of the day was not as simple as I had come to expect…

At one point during our recent holiday travels, Ennelin’s little voice piped up from the backseat of the car to ask a question which had clearly been on her mind since the communion service at church on Christmas Eve.

“Mama, why do we eat Jesus’ body and drink His blood?”

Last year, on Good Friday, Derek and I had the privilege experiencing Golgotha, likely the most beautiful interplay between music and narrative we have ever heard. Growing up going to the symphony, opera, and ballet, I have always loved how beauty and meaning can be conveyed through music.

One of our favorite mommy/toddler past-times lately is baking together. I mentally/spiritually prepare beforehand by asking God to help me with my control issues and helicopter-parenting tendencies…