On not knowing, but believing

We've got a schooling situation on our hands. As in, we have none.

Our support account says we're at 82%, which means we can see the finish line. The 90% which allows us to buy plane tickets.

We wait for God to work.

And it is summer, and the girl is ready for elementary school, and the boy is ready for Irish school, and we've not yet enrolled them in the fall. Anywhere.

I'm not sure what this means, except I feel ready. But our apartment is still full and we still have work to do. I tell people this summer and they say, "Really? So soon?" I ask myself that, too, and think "Oh, maybe... I hope so? But maybe not...?" They tell me I should enroll them anyway, better safe than sorry.

But I tell them I don't yet have peace.

Even if I were to enroll them, I don't where they would go, don't know if we'll still be in this apartment (let alone this country), don't know if we'd need to transition somewhere else to finish the fundraising.

I don't know so many things.

"In August, God will tell us," I tell them, "He always has." And this is true. When it comes to our kids and schools, He's always shown us the way. He's always put us in the right place (even when we didn't want to be there), always opened up a spot (even when they said it was full), always been patient with us (even when we haven't been patient with Him).

We have friends in a similar situation, in a similar season of life (this waiting and going). When I share these thoughts with her she looks me straight in the eyes and says, "Don't enroll them." There is no hesitation, no pause at the timing, no gasp at the numbers. She believes.

It's misty and dark outside now... a rare reprieve from the heat and sun, dampening our thirsty grass.

I believe, too.