I’ve had a pervasive lump in my throat this week, the kind that prevents me from talking too much because I may just start crying as I do. This journey we’ve been walking hasn’t been an easy one. In fact, let me rephrase that, it has been feeling a bit more like an uphill climb that I’m too old and out of shape for. As we’ve been caring for Frank, Helen, Caleb, and Grace daily for the last 6 months, other things haven’t slowed down; they’ve actually kind of gotten bigger. Mark’s full-time job of working with the teachers on the field in China…planning and hosting The Sparrow Fund’s marriage retreat for adoptive and foster families Together Called…speaking at several different events…planning a photography exhibit coming up May 1st with pictures the children took at the orphanage where we led a photography workshop…preparing to lead a team with Mark to China this May…writing the curriculum and taking care of all the logistics for 50+ Americans to go into 4 different schools to teach English next month… It’s all really really good stuff, but our days are totally filled.

I confess that this past week was hard. It’s been about a year and a half since my husband quit his career in the finance industry to work for a nonprofit where we live on full support alone. A few days ago, we took a hard look at things and acknowledged together that we are only fully covered through May. When we return in June from our 2-week trip to China, leading a team of folks to go serve, if nothing changes, we will only be able to be paid our partial salary going forward. The same day we sat down to talk about this, as I was driving our daughter to a softball game Wednesday, we were in a car accident. No one was hurt—thank God. But, there was extensive damage to our 2006 van as it was hit hard by another car. We are waiting to hear today if the insurance company is going to just say it’s not worth fixing and total it, leaving us having to buy a new van.

Rocks on the journey. Rocks so rough that I went to bed asking myself if we were on the right path at all. Is this really where you want us God? Why is it so hard? We’re so tired, God. Please, Lord, show us some fruit and confirm that we are where we are supposed to be because on days like this, I just want to give up and go back to what at least seemed steady and safe.

The next morning, I woke up with a text with this.

That smile wasn’t as big in October when I led a team to the orphanage in Shaanxi, China. This little boy was supposed to be in the photography workshop we were hosting, but the staff gave his spot to another child because he was leaving to be adopted on the same day we arrived. But, two days later, he was back. The family who he had been waiting for for a year decided they weren’t going to bring him home after all. And, his heart was broken. I worked hard for this boy in the days I had with him, pursuing him, calling out hope for him, speaking truth to him. I boldly told the orphanage staff before I left that I would not rest until he had a family who would make him their son forever. It took only a couple weeks for a family in the church of a team member to hear his story, see his picture, and recognize him as theirs. He won’t be coming home for a few more months, but he’s got a home, and that day is coming when he’ll be made a beloved son. Knowing that other Americans were going to be at the orphanage this week, I had written a note for Tao Tao reminding him of his preciousness. And, that morning, when I felt weighed down and desperate, God gave me that picture.

His smile. The joy on his face. My name–if you look closely at the paper he’s holding–literally in his hands.

You are exactly where I want you and your family to be. Yes, it’s hard, but hard doesn’t mean you’re on the wrong path. It may not look good from what you can see where you are right now, but I promise you that the view from the top is worth the climb. Keep going. Keep pressing on. Even if for just this one child, keep on keeping on. It’s worth it. He’s worth it. I’m worth it.

Our finances aren’t any better today than they were earlier this week. No new support has magically appeared so that we will have a full income in June. Our van is still a crumpled mess sitting outside a body shop right now, and we’re still waiting to hear if we’ll be able to get it fixed or be forced to swallow a large price tag to get a new one. And, we’ve learned that we won’t have a real resolution to the accident for up to a year as the insurance companies go back and forth. Frank and Helen are still leaving Tuesday with their little ones which will lessen our load a bit, admittedly, but also leave us speechless for a while. As we look ahead of us a few steps, we aren’t seeing any fewer rocks on the path. But, we’re seeing the hand of our guide. He’s beckoning us on. And so, we’re following with great fear and trepidation, mind you, taking one step at a time.